In this Wide World
by K242
Summary: Mitsuha clenches a fist as she looks upon the debris she once called home. Three years ago, she went to find Taki, and came home with a broken heart. Then, somehow, Taki went three years back in time to find her, but now. . .all she can do is whisper a promise to herself. ". . .Wherever you are in the world, I swear that I'll find you again. . .no matter what."
1. Chapter 1

"How'd it go with your old man?" Tessie asks.

Taki stays silent, staring off into the Hida mountains as he contemplates what Yotsuha had said. Mitsuha had gone to Tokyo yesterday. . .for a date? With who? Did she go to see him? If she did, then. . .she would have been three years too early. He wouldn't have known who she was.

It suddenly strikes him, like a bolt from the blue. She had found him. All those years ago, before he knew her, they meet on a subway car. And on that day, Mitsuha gave him her braided cord. Taki continues to gaze pensively as Tessie and Yotsuha wonder what's wrong with Mitsuha.

Like a distant wind chime, he stares directly at where he (somehow) knows the sacred relic of Miyamizu Shrine lies. And despite everything logical dictating otherwise, Taki knows that Mitsuha is there. Every fiber of his being—his body, his heart, and his mind—scream at him to go to her.

On sudden impulse, Taki grabs Tessie's bike and quickly gets on. "Let me borrow your bike, Tessie," he asks.

"Hey!" Tessie exclaims, but lets Taki take his bike anyways. "Where are you going?"

"I. . .I have to see someone," Taki says evasively.

"What about the plan?"

"Tessie, we'll get everything ready like we planned," Taki says decisively. "I couldn't convince him, but maybe if he sees the comet splitting like I told him it would, he'll change his mind."

"Well, it's something," Saya says nervously. "W-will I really have to give that fake emergency broadcast?"

"We're counting on you, Saya," Taki says. "And both of you. . .if I can't convince my dad. . ."

Tessie shakes his head. "No. You can do it. We're not going to talk like—"

"Please," Taki says. "If I'm not back in time, make sure Yotsuha and my grandmother make it to the high school."

Tessie recognizes the look in Taki's eyes—that same determined look Mitsuha would sport on those days where she seemingly became possessed. He doesn't want to entertain the possibility of failure, but he can't ignore such a heartfelt and important request from one of his best friends. "You got it, Mitsuha. Don't worry."

Taki smiles at him and takes a deep breath of relief. "Thank you." Taking comfort in Tessie's promise, he starts pedaling with all of his might.

* * *

Bruised and dirty, Taki stumbles as he clears the last patch of rocky ground leading to the rim of the crater. He pants, looking side to side, as he continues to run around the edge.

"Mitsuha!" he calls out, his voice echoing. "You're here, right?! Inside my body!"

Taki's calls go unanswered. His frantic pace slows to a halting walk until he finally comes to a stop. For some reason, his gut tells him that she should have been standing here, in the same place but in a different time. But she's not there.

The dying golden light of the sun dips below the distant horizon, casting deep shadows over Taki and the crater. Taki listlessly gazes out at the vibrant sunset, the sky a palette of warm yellow fading into deep blue.

"The magic hour," he whispers to himself.

No matter how much we wants to, Taki can't wait here any longer. Despite his instincts telling him otherwise, Mitsuha isn't here. He's not sure if he can convince her father, but he has to try. He still has time. Determined to save Mitsuha and the people of Itomori, Taki takes off running down the mountain slope, taking long strides as he navigates the rocky terrain.

Deep in the cavern housing the sacred relic of Miyamizu Shrine, Mitsuha continues to slumber, unaware.

* * *

Taki runs as fast he can, the wind whipping in his ears as he pushes Mitsuha's body to the full extent of its physical limits. He still has time. Maybe, just maybe, Mitsuha's father will have changed his mind when saw that the comet split, just like Taki said it would. But if he doesn't. . .well, Taki can only hope that as many people as possible get to the high school, even if his and Tessie's attempts at spurring an evacuation failed miserably. Maybe, just maybe, Tessie and the others made it out in time. Taki can only pray that they did.

Taki spares a moment to look up at the comet, even if he can't exactly tell how much time he has left. "Come on," he growls to himself, urging his aching legs to move faster and his burning lungs to hold out for just a little more.

But his fatigue has finally caught up to him as one of his feet carelessly crashes into an uneven crack in the road. The collision knocks Taki off balance, and all of his forward momentum sends him tumbling forward as he lands on the painfully hard road.

Taki barely feels anything, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he pushes himself off the ground. He takes a step forward and his right leg limply buckles under the weight of his body.

Taki rests on one knee, chest rapidly rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath while also trying to manage the sudden weakness in his leg. He's come too far, against all odds, to let a mere twisted ankle stop him now.

He weakly staggers to his feet, only for his strength to fail him again as he collapses into a heap. He desperately pounds the ground with a fist, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"Dammit!" he howls, his broken cry unheard by the world. Defeated, he rolls over onto his back and stares up at the night sky.

Even as the land around him is painted an unearthly red by the billowing clouds of stardust and celestial fire bearing down upon him, Taki can't help but admire the harsh but impartial beauty of nature one last time.

"Nothing more or less," Taki whispers to himself, "than a breathtaking view.

Sorry, Mitsuha. . ."

* * *

The unpleasant sensation of cold water dripping onto her face wakes Mitsuha. She screws her eyes tightly shut, trying to get comfortable where she lays, but the gritty feeling of dirt and rocks makes her begrudgingly get up. The moment she starts moving, she notices the peculiar yet familiar feeling of her body—or rather, Taki's body. Her hands instinctually fly upward, patting her body down as she tries to process what's going on. She's Taki again. . .but where is she?

Her eyes strain to make anything out in the pitch darkness of her location, which immediately confuses her. Her vision quickly comes into focus and adjusts to the low lighting, and she can somewhat make out her surroundings. In front of her is the sacred relic of Miyamizu Shrine. What was Taki doing here?

She slowly makes her way out of the cave, shielding her eyes from the harsh sun as she steps outside. She cranes her neck upwards as she stares at the lip of the crater, her mind strangely fixated on what might lay on the other side. She methodically picks her way up the rocky slope, cautiously planning out her path to the top. It's a relatively short trek, but for some reason the hike feels like it lasts for an eternity to Mitsuha.

Once she crests the crater lip, the breath is sucked out of her lungs and her eyes go wide as she stares down at Itomori below.

Or rather, what remains of Itomori.

The idyllic country town, her home, is gone. Instead, a second crater lake sits in the town's former location, its shores littered with signs of a devastating impact. As she stares in disbelief, a memory suddenly rises to the surface of Mitsuha's consciousness.

She's standing in a tranquil meadow, her yukata and the grass both flowing in the night breeze. She tilts her head upwards to look at comet Tiamat as it passes by Earth.

And above her, a towering inferno from the heavens comes crashing down upon her as the fragments of Tiamat rain destruction all around.

Mitsuha falls to her knees, her body and mind numb.

"So, does that mean. . ."

Before she can finish her thought, Mitsuha's vision lurches, and she's overcome with a wave of dizzying nausea. She hunches forward, dragging in deep breaths as her mind suddenly struggles to reconcile memories that no longer exist. Unable to suppress the sickening sensation any longer, Mitsuha falls forward onto her hands and knees and starts dry heaving, the burning sensation and pain causing her eyes to tear up as her body struggles to expel the contents of her empty stomach. Instead, only bile comes up, the burning sensation reflexively causing her eyes to brim with tears. It's almost as if Taki's body is physically rejecting her paradoxical existence, as if she's an affront to nature itself.

"B-but. . .I died," she splutters between coughs and sniffles. "H-how am I. . . ?"

Searing pain shoots through her skull as her mind feels as if it's ripping itself apart, trying to comprehend the impossibility of her situation. She has memories of dying in her own body, yet here she is, alive, in Taki's body? That shouldn't be possible—unless. . .

Face down in the dirt, Mitsuha can only tearfully murmur her epiphany to herself.

"Taki. . .died in my place. . . ?"

* * *

Notes: A project I've been wanting to do for a while after seeing a prompt a long time ago. Only problem is, I haven't really done much outside of writing and brainstorming and rewriting a short introductory chapter. Pretty much have no idea where I'm going to go with this, so it's likely this story will update extremely slowly, if at all. And yes, I will likely be putting other stories on hold as well (not like they've been updated for a long time anyways), mostly due to lack of motivation/inspiration.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun is already beginning to set by the time Mitsuha comes to her senses. Her tears have long since dried up, and her face aches from crying so much. She still can't believe it—that Taki, not her, died on that day three years ago. Well, to the world, Mitsuha Miyamizu was only a name now, the person wiped out by the fragment of Tiamat. The body switching already defied all logical reason, but for her to permanently trade consciousnesses with Taki is something she could have never imagined.

She slowly brushes some stray dirt and blades of grass off of her body as she stands up, squinting into the sun. She can't stay on this mountain and stew in her misery forever. There are people out there waiting for Taki Tachibana to come home. Okudera, Tsukasa, Takagi. . .people she would have never met, yet has grown impossibly close to over the short span of a single month.

Mitsuha looks back one more time at the sacred relic of Miyamizu Shrine. Taki surely left some belongings in there, things she'd likely need to make it back to Tokyo. Even now, however, her grandmother's words echo in the back of her mind.

_"What lies ahead is the hereafter. It's the netherworld."_

To return, she would have to leave behind what is most important to her. . . . A pang grips Mitsuha's heart as she idly thinks that she's already lost what was most important to her. Perhaps that was the price when Taki came to the shrine. Even so, she clambers down the primitive earthen steps and heads into the cavern.

It's a short walk to the heart of the shrine, where the sacred relic stands. Even now, Yotsuha's bottle of kuchikamizake stands faithfully by the shrine's side, long crusted over with moss. Her own, however, sits on the ground in front of the shrine, the seal broken and the bottle cap removed. So, Taki drank her kuchikamizake, huh? Any other time, she would have flushed crimson and called him a pervert, but now she views his actions more objectively. He didn't know how the sake in that bottle was made, though she's still a bit concerned that Taki's first thought was to drink from a bottle of mysterious alcohol.

The kuchikamizake. Now, thinking about the ritual hardly fazes Mitsuha. She'd give anything to go back to that carefree life, where her biggest worries were embarrassing herself in front of her classmates and wondering what mess Taki would get her into next.

Mitsuha contemplates angrily kicking the bottle aside, shattering the delicate ceramic and sending sake spraying all over the sacred relic. Sacrilege, yes, but Mitsuha feels no fondness towards the gods. She offered them a part of herself, and for what?

That's right. Her grandmother had said that the kuchikamizake was a part of her. And that by sharing it with others, a union would be formed. _Musubi_. Did Taki too remember those words? As quickly as it came, her fit of anger rapidly subsides. Instead, Mitsuha kneels in front of the relic and gingerly caps the bottle, her fingers running across bottle, feeling where Taki's own fingers broke the coat of moss.

But instead of replacing her bottle on the shrine, Mitsuha instead rearranges the items in Taki's bag to make room, carefully nestling the bottle amongst some spare clothes. Perhaps the gods would curse her for taking back her offering from all those years ago. But it seems as if they'd already cursed her, so what does she have to lose?

Her task complete, Mitsuha once again begins her return from the netherworld.

* * *

Dusk is already in full swing by the time Mitsuha walks clear of the mountain forest, the distant buzzing of cicadas growing more and more faint as she begins to follow the cracked, buckled road. In another time, she would have walked these very roads with Tessie and Saya, happily whiling away the time talking about anything and everything. But now she walks alone, with only her thoughts to keep her company.

Mitsuha is so engrossed in worrying about the potential fate of her family and friends that she doesn't notice a familiar voice frantically calling Taki's name until a hysterical Okudera captures her in a tight embrace.

"Taki, there you are!" Okudera sobs into Mitsuha's shoulder. "Thank goodness you're alright! Tsukasa and I woke up to find you gone, and you only left some money and a cryptic note. We were going to go back to Tokyo, but before we got on the train I suddenly had this horrible feeling that something awful was going to happen to you!"

Mitsuha grimly thinks to herself that Okudera's premonition was tragically spot on. But she can't exactly tell her that. ". . .I'm fine," she says distantly.

Okudera tearily smiles at her, yet Mitsuha knows that smile isn't meant for her. "Are you sure you're okay? You still seem a little down, you know."

"It'll pass," Mitsuha deflects, even if Okudera doesn't seem to buy it.

". . .Let's talk later, okay, Taki? It's been a long day for both of us," Okudera says. "Tsukasa and that nice old man from the ramen shop are waiting for us just down the road. We'd better hurry if we want to make it back to Tokyo tonight!"

Mitsuha silently acquiesces, wondering just how long she'll be able to maintain this façade.

* * *

The train ride back to Tokyo is quiet and uneventful, if supremely awkward. Both Tsukasa and Okudera make to break the silence, to ask how Taki is doing, but falter every time. They both know something is still wrong with Taki, perhaps worse than before, but simply don't know what to say anymore. For now Mitsuha prefers the silence, staring out of the window as rustic green fields slowly transition to the uniform greys of the city, just as she did on that fateful trip three years ago. This time, however, the settling darkness of night matches her despair, compared to the bright hope and nervous energy she carried back then.

When the train finally settles to a stop at their destination, Mitsuha hastily disembarks without a word to her companions, leaving Okudera and Tsukasa to watch her retreating back with bewilderment. Tsukasa moves to chase after her, but a gentle touch on his shoulder from Okudera stops him in his tracks. With a small shake of her head and a sad smile, she instead heads in the opposite direction as Mitsuha. Torn between his two friends, Tsukasa lingers for only a moment before dejectedly going his own way.

* * *

Mitsuha quietly slinks inside Taki's apartment, knowing full well that his father wouldn't be home, as usual. Even so, she still feels like she's trespassing. Back when she was switching places with Taki, there was a sort of tacit agreement that they were welcome in each other's homes, even if somethings were still off limits. But now. . .now, Mitsuha is too tired to dwell on the issue. She shrugs off her bag and coat before laying down on top of the bed covers, still clothed. As her sleeve slightly pulls back, she notices a familiar orange and red band on her wrist.

So, Taki had really kept the cord for three years, never knowing who that girl who gave it to him really was? In the end, he remembered. It's a bittersweet thought—despite only meeting once, and Taki didn't even know her when they did, he still came to save her.

Mitsuha cries herself to sleep, clutching her braided cord.


	3. Chapter 3

"He's gotten worse," Takagi says matter-of-factly.

"Hey, it's not my fault!" Tsukasa says defensively. "We went along with him to make sure everything was okay!"

"I didn't say it was your fault, man. But what happened out there?"

"I. . .don't remember?"

"What?!" Takagi's exclamation is loud enough that it draws the attention of every other student on the rooftop, the sad bouncing of a forgotten basketball the only sound echoing throughout the space.

Tsukasa takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "Taki stopped coming to eat lunch with us. He's stopped doing pretty much everything outside of going to school and work. It's like he's empty inside. Just who was that girl he was looking for?"

"Who knows? This sucks." Takagi viciously crumples up the trash from his lunch. "I want to help, but I just don't know how. All I can do is watch as my friend spirals downward. Why won't he talk to us, either? Does he not trust us? Aren't we friends?"

"I want to help too," Tsukasa concurs. "And so does Okudera. But maybe Taki just needs to work through it on his own."

"It's been a few weeks. How much time does he need?"

Tsukasa sighs. "Who knows?"

* * *

Mitsuha robotically wipes down the table as the restaurant finishes up closing for the night. For the past few weeks, she's avoided Taki's friends and family as much as possible, opting to try and find some semblance of balance in her life through a strict schedule of school and work. It's not a perfect solution, but the concentration required is most certainly a welcome distraction from her inner monologue.

Where she had once struggled on the hectic battlefield of the service industry, Mitsuha has slowly gone from incompetent to excelling. Before, she would constantly mess up orders and generally cause problems for both staff and customer alike, always having to bow her head in apology. Now, she's a seasoned veteran who easily glides from table to table, knowing how to handle both customers as well as her coworkers and boss.

The table below her shines in atmospheric lighting of the restaurant, giving Mitsuha just the smallest bit of satisfaction. She can manage this much, at least, and she'd always taken pride in a job well done. Her work is interrupted, however, when a slender hand suddenly obstructs part of the table, leaving irksome smudges on the once pristine surface. Mitsuha knows who it is, but still can't bring herself to look at her companion.

"Taki, can we talk?" Okudera asks, though the request is more of a command. "We can go back to the office."

While she's fine with strangers, Mitsuha still is uncertain of how she'll tackle Taki's close friends. She'd only just managed to establish a rhythm, albeit a shaky one liable to fall apart at the slightest disturbance, and Mitsuha is loath to give up her sorely-needed stability so soon. But she can't avoid her problems forever, no matter how much she wants to. And she's tired of having to live a lie.

So Mitsuha mutely nods in acquiescence, to which Okudera quickly drags her away and into the backroom, locking the door behind them. Satisfied at the relative security of their surroundings, Okudera turns back to Mitsuha, hesitation plastered across her face. Mitsuha idly thinks that the expression doesn't suit Okudera, but she knows that it's partially her own fault.

"Taki, about our trip to Itomori. . ." Okudera begins, but immediately trails off.

"I'm fine," Mitsuha hollowly reassures her. "Everything's fine."

"What about that girl you went to go look for? The one who passed away during the disaster three years ago. What was her name. . .Mitsuha Miyamizu? Sorry if I'm bringing up a bit of a sore topic, but I just need to know. You. . .you loved her, didn't you?"

Okudera's words give Mitsuha pause. Taki. . .loved her? She remembers the morning of the day she went to Tokyo. As she was doing her hair, getting ready for school as usual, she found herself dwelling on Taki and Okudera's date. She was jealous of Taki, since she had wanted to spend the day around Tokyo having fun. But. . .that wouldn't explain the tears streaming down her face, nor the mysterious ache in her chest. Only now does she realize how dense she was, why she felt that way.

She loved him.

"Sorry, Okudera," Mitsuha hastily apologizes as she wipes at the corner of her eyes. "I really should get going. Good night."

"Taki, wait!" Okudera helplessly calls as the door slams shut in her face. Defeated, she falls to her knees, biting her lip in frustration. She vacantly recalls that horrible feeling of dread that day Taki ran off into the mountains. She had been so relieved that her gut feeling had been wrong, that Taki was all right.

But now, she's not so sure if her premonition was wrong after all.

* * *

Mitsuha steps out into the cool night, the light of the restaurant casting looming shadows down the street. Her eyes focused downward, Mitsuha slowly merges with the thinning Tokyo crowds to commute home. At first, she had been dazzled by the bright lights and constant noise of the big city, but time as well as her overwhelming apathy has reduced everything but her immediate surroundings to a muted blur. So, even as she catches muted snippets of various conversations, one in particular seems to pierce through the otherwise unintelligible white noise.

"Oh! Doesn't that restaurant look nice? _Il Giardino delle Parole_. . .must be Italian. Why don't we go there some time?"

"Italian, huh? Doesn't that have a lot of carbs? Didn't you say you were going on a diet?"

". . .I can start a bit later!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course you will. But you're right, it does look pretty nice. Why don't we go next week?"

"Yeah, sounds good!"

Even if she can barely hear the two speakers, Mitsuha isn't exactly paying attention to her surroundings. Another pedestrian's shoulder roughly crashes into her, knocking her off balance. Dazed by the collision, Mitsuha hardly notices the man apologizing and grabbing onto her shoulders.

"Sorry about that! I wasn't watching where I was going."

The moment she makes eye contact with her unwitting assailant Mitsuha suddenly struggles to breathe; her entire body is wracked with nervous tremors.

"Tessie. . . ? Saya. . . ?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Saya! Tessie!" Mitsuha half-sobs. "It's really you!"

She unconsciously steps forward to pull them into a tight hug, but to her dismay they both recoil in caution. Through her teary vision, Mitsuha can see Tessie's confusion and Saya's fear, then she remembers her situation.

Saya fidgets from behind Tessie, her eyes darting side to side, looking for some sort of salvation or chance to escape. "Hey. . .we should get out of here," she suggests.

"How do you know our names?" Tessie asks, all but ignoring Saya. "Who are you?"

Mitsuha had already let their names slip, so she figures she might as well press on. She's feeling rather bold now, her fears of her friends being dead allayed. Finally, Mitsuha speaks not as if she were Taki, but as herself.

"Well, it's hard to explain. . .and I know you won't believe me. But I know you. And you know me. Because. . .well, it's me. Mitsuha."

Before Mitsuha can register what's happened, Saya is suddenly between her and Tessie, eyes full of disdainful anger. "What's wrong with you? You must be sick!" she shouts, face contorted in disgust. "You know us? You think you're Mitsuha?! How dare you use her name like that!"

Her arm flies up to slap Mitsuha across the face, but Tessie catches her hand. "Come on," he tries to calm her. "It's not worth it. He's trying to make you mad. He must've seen our names in the news or something. Let's go home."

Saya deflates, sufficiently chastised. ". . .Yeah."

Mitsuha had expected as much, but it still sends a sharp pang through her chest to have her friends treat her this way. She can't exactly blame them, though. As survivors of the disaster, it's likely they've been in the media and harassed before. If only she had some way to convince them. Some hard, incontrovertible proof that, at the very least, Taki had some sort of connection to her.

But the opportunity continues to slip away as Tessie and Saya slowly disappear back into the faceless Tokyo crowds, and Mitsuha stays rooted to the sidewalk. At the very least, she knows that her friends survived, which gives her hope that maybe her family did as well. It's a reassuring thought, but Mitsuha still watches bitterly as the people she's known her whole life leave her behind without a second thought. She roughly wipes away her tears and lets her hands drop when she just barely happens to brush a soft weight in her pocket.

Her braided cord.

The morning after she returned from Itomori, Mitsuha had immediately taken the cord off of her wrist. She couldn't bring herself to wear it, having felt as though she didn't have the right, but she still found herself carrying it around. Almost as if the cord was the last part of Taki remaining in this world, just as her kuchkamizake had been her last connection to Taki. Saya and Tessie would recognize the braided cord. They have to.

Cord in hand, Mitsuha takes off in the general direction her friends went, hoping against hope that she might stumble across them and that they might give her just the smallest chance to explain. She has so much to tell them, so much to ask from them, and these desires propel her faster and faster until she spies the couple slowly walking towards a nearby subway station. Before they begin descending the steps, Mitsuha reaches out and grabs Tessie by the arm.

"Wait! Please!"

Tessie turns, his face dark. "You again. . .what do you want?!"

Mitsuha thrusts her fist forward, cord in hand. Before she can say anything, however, Saya realizes what she's showing them. Slowly, her face grows pale as she struggles to put her thoughts into words. "That's. . .that's her cord. Mitsuha's cord. That shouldn't. . .how do you. . . ?"

"Please," Mitsuha begs. "Just give me one chance to explain."

* * *

The three of them shuffle into some chain café. It's not exactly how Mitsuha wanted her first visit to a café with her friends to go, but she's just thankful they're okay. Tessie heads to the counter to order some coffee, so Saya and Mitsuha head to a table in the far corner of the café. The oppressive silence between the two is unbearably awkward, but thankfully their wait is brief. Tessie returns balancing three steaming cups.

"Black coffee," he explains. Mitsuha just nods gratefully and takes one of the offered cups. She's never liked the bitter flavor of coffee, but the warm liquid and savory aroma are soothing enough for now.

After a short pause as they each sort out their beverage, Saya now chooses to speak, reassured by Tessie's presence. "You said you were Mitsuha." Saya vaguely gestures at Mitsuha. "Then who is. . .who's body is this?"

"His name was Taki Tachibana," Mitsuha says.

Her use of the past tense doesn't slip past either of her listeners. "'Was?'" Tessie asks.

Mitsuha takes one last sip of her piping hot coffee in preparation, ready to talk for quite some time. "I know what I'm about to tell you is unbelievable, but all I ask is that you hear me out," she prefaces her story. Satisfied by the lack of protest from Tessie and Saya, Mitsuha begins.

She starts all the way back at the beginning. Her own vague recollections of forgotten dreams about someone else's life, and the sudden revelation that she was actually switching places with someone else.

She tells them about Taki. A Tokyo high school boy, living three years in the future. Her frustrations with how he seemed to mess up her carefully crafted life, how she too interfered with his own relationships. Their petty squabbles through diary entries exchanged across time and space. And the realization that she loved him.

She recounts her last memory before waking up as Taki. That fateful autumn evening, standing in an open field with Saya and Tessie as they watch Tiamat pass by in awe and wonder, and the incredible sight of the comet splitting apart. The sheer terror as she could only watch helplessly as the comet came down upon Itomori. Finally, nothingness.

But then she woke up in Taki's body again, inside the cave where the Miyamizu Shrine god's relic lays. Gazing down upon the remnants of Itomori after the comet disaster and remembering the impossible memory of dying.

And the heartbreaking realization that she only lived because, somehow, Taki had switched with her once last time and died in her place.

Her piece said and with Saya and Tessie deep in thought, Mitsuha returns to her now-lukewarm cup of coffee. The rich aroma of coffee is long gone, and she knows that the once bitter yet complex drink is now overwhelmingly sour. Even so, she hazards a sip and predictably puckers up the second the acrid liquid touches her tongue.

It's at this inopportune time that Tessie finally finishes deliberating and addresses Mitsuha. "That was quite a story you told," he says. "You were right about it being unbelievable. There's so much that just can't be explained."

Mitsuha shrinks in her seat, prepared for rejection. "I understand," she says meekly. "Thank you for your time." She makes to leave, but Tessie stops her.

"I'm not finished," he continues. "There's a lot of stuff that has no possible explanation, but there's also so much that just adds up. Why Mitsuha was having those wild personality changes and random memory loss. How she knew that the comet would split and fall on Itomori, and that the high school would be safe." Tessie rubs his eyes, as if he can't believe the words about to come out of his mouth, yet he says them all the same.

"I believe you, Mitsuha."

Mitsuha slumps into her chair, all of the tension in her body and mind washed away by a surge of something that's not quite relief or happiness, but rather an emotion that's more a sense of vindication or fulfillment. She's so shocked Mitsuha still isn't sure if she heard Tessie right—but it's his use of her name that tells her that she did.

"Oh, Tessie," Mitsuha says, uttery lost for words. Unable to sum up the jumble of emotions she feels, Mitsuha simply expresses her gratitude. Perhaps, however, that's all she needs to say. "Thank you, Tessie."

It's simple yet heartfelt, yet the sincerity of her words and expression fully convey Mitsuha's thoughts and feelings to Tessie.

Across the table, Saya silently watches the subdued, short exchange between Tessie and (presumably) Mitsuha. After so long, after she thought she could at least put the hurt and sadness behind her, this stranger appears and opens up old wounds. Saya wonders if she'll ever get the closure she wants, no, needs. But what was initially an unwelcome encounter now has Saya questioning what she knows. Everything she's heard today, like Tessie said, matches up too well. Only someone who was there with them, who knew them and lived with them, could have known so much. And this boy before her, who claims to be Mitsuha, is either putting on one convincing act or truly is (or thinks he is) Mitsuha. Saya racks her brain, but she just can't think of any reasonable explanation for why this stranger would claim to be Mitsuha. And perhaps most convincingly, Mitsuha's braided cord. At the very least, it proves a connection between the boy and Mitsuha, and Saya just can't ignore that.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Saya begins by apologizing. "I was a bit quick to anger."

Mitsuha shakes her head in understanding. "Not at all. If I were you, I think I would've reacted the same way. . .I was just so glad to see that you two were all right. But, I take it this means. . . ?" Mitsuha trails off in hopeful expectation.

Saya pauses for a second, but not because she's reconsidering. She just can't believe, can't process the idea that Mitsuha is really alive and here with her. Finally, she slowly nods in affirmation. "I guess so. . .Mitsuha."

The companionable silence isn't quite what Mitsuha would have expected from the cathartic reunion with her friends, but the calm quiet is a welcome reprieve from the nervous desperation she'd felt up until this moment. Save for the idle chatter of other patrons and the muted whir of a coffee grinder, not a sound comes from the three of them. In fact, the break in conversation serves as a much-needed respite for each of them to organize their thoughts and feelings.

Finally, Tessie asks the question that's at the forefront of everyone's minds. "So, where does this leave us? Even if Saya and I believe you, I really doubt anyone else would. Unless someone had gone through the exact same thing, they'd just think you're crazy."

"You're right. You two are the only ones I can confide in," Mitsuha sighs, but she still ruminates on Tessie's last statement. The dreams she and Taki had all seemingly led to a single, pivotal moment in time—the chance to save the people of Itomori. This union was something only shared between her and Taki. Once again, that word gives Mitsuha pause and reminds her of something, or rather someone, she had briefly let slip from her mind. "There's something else I need to know," she begins shakily. "Yotsuha, and Grandma. . .and my dad. Did they make it out, too?"


	5. Chapter 5

Saya takes a deep breath to steel herself, a warning sign to Mitsuha that makes her blood run cold. "Mitsuha, about your family. . ." Saya pauses, trying to find her words. "Well, Yotsuha and your grandmother, they're safe. In fact, they're living in Tokyo now. But your father. . ."

Mitsuha's initial elation at the good news is immediately dampened by Saya's trailing thought. She raises a hand, stopping Tessie or Saya from saying any more. Saya's hesitation and unwillingness to finish her sentence tells Mitsuha everything.

Despite the rocky relationship between her and her father, Mitsuha still feels a painful, gaping emptiness upon confirming that he's truly gone. Yotsuha may have been too young to remember anything but the harsh, distant authority figure who was less than family, but Mitsuha still has memories of better times. When she would walk between her mother and father, swinging from their hands without a care in the world. The excitement of getting a younger sister, and the warmth of close familial bonds. But those fond memories are more than a decade old. Even so, Mitsuha still harbored the slightest hope that one day her father would reconcile with her family and they could be together once more.

The tears, however, don't fall. For as sad as Mitsuha is, she knows that that wish could never come true, even if her father were alive and wanted to make amends, as she's still stuck in Taki's body. So, all she can do is coldly focus on what she can. "Yostuha. Grandma. You said they're in Tokyo?"

"That's right," Tessie says warily, "but are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I didn't take it so well when you appeared in front of us," Saya says. "Your sister and grandmother probably won't, either."

Mitsuha can only imagine Yotsuha's reaction. If it weren't for the terrifyingly likely prospect of being rejected by her family, she'd find the mental image a bit humorous. Even so, Mitsuha is already resolved to see them. "They won't," Mitsuha agrees. "But I have to try. If there's even the slightest chance, I can't let it slip away."

"I guess that settles it, then. No matter what happens, we've got your back," Tessie reassures Mitsuha.

* * *

Mitsuha calls off work the next day. She could have asked Takagi or Tsukasa to cover her shift, or perhaps tell Okudera she couldn't make it in, but in the end she felt a bit guilty about suddenly asking for a favor after icing out Taki's friends. She wonders if she's done something irreparable to their relationship, and if she'll ever get the chance to make amends. But as callous as it sounds, that's a problem for the future.

With her one obligation covered, Mitsuha stands before a non-descript apartment door; the address courtesy of Saya, who had gotten back to Mitsuha mere hours after their chance encounter. Saya had insistently assured her that everything would be fine, and Mitsuha now regrets not inquiring as to why. Mitsuha shakes her head, trying to banish her nagging doubts. Saya was just trying be supportive. Or so Mitsuha would like to believe.

Outwardly, Mitsuha appears calm and composed, yet she remains rooted to the spot. Mere feet away is her family, who she feared she had lost. And, from their point of view, they had lost her. It'd be a simple to butt into their lives and claim to be their dead sister and granddaughter, but of course, this is hardly a simple matter. Where should she start? How should she explain? Despite having played through this scenario in her head time and time again, Mitsuha's mind is completely blank. She has no plan, all she has is her braided cord, which she can feel burning a hole in her pocket. She briefly touches her leg in order to make sure it's still there, but she feels little relief when her fingers press against the bundled cord. The thought that her fate could rest on what is essentially a single string is nerve wracking, to say the least.

So it's understandable why she remains frozen by indecision. All it takes is one blunder for everything to go wrong. A misunderstanding, a refusal to believe, or outright rejection. . .Mitsuha feels like she can't count on herself, let alone hope her sister and grandmother will believe her outlandish tale.

Mitsuha finally moves—and turns away from the door. She'll have to apologize to Saya an Tessie, but she needs more time. Maybe they can come with her when she does try again, both to provide moral support and back up her claims.

But it seems fate has other plans for her (as always), or perhaps it's just sheer bad luck, as Mitsuha comes face to face with her grandmother and sister. Saya and Tessie had already told her that they had survived, but back then it hadn't really hit her—she was still reeling from reconnecting with her friends as well as the news that her father had passed. She feels her knees quaking as she glances over her family.

Her grandmother looks the same as Mitsuha remembers, though there is more of a weary air about her. It seems like her years are finally catching up to her, or at least that's what Mitsuha gathers from her grandmother's stooped posture and hunched shoulders.

Yotsuha, on the other hand, has blossomed in these three short years. Her sister has sprouted in height, her head coming past even Taki's shoulders, and much of the baby fat has slowly melted away to reveal a face all-too reminiscent of their mother's. Yotsuha, too, strikes Mitsuha as closed off—not necessarily distrustful, but tired of the world.

"Who're you?" Yotsuha warily asks, skeptically eyeing Mitsuha. "Are you lost?"

"Uh, well—no," Mitsuha stammers, cursing her rotten luck. "I'm—"

"Oh, are you the young man Sayaka told me about? Taki Tachibana, was it?" her grandmother asks. "Sayaka said that you were in one of her broadcast classes, and that you wanted to ask some questions for a project."

"Y-yes, that's right!" Mitsuha latches onto Saya's lie, thankful her friend had thought to come up with a cover story. "I'm sorry if it's a sore subject for you, but I was assigned to do a bit of research on Itomori."

Her grandmother kindly allays Mitsuha's concerns. "Don't worry, young man. I can't say that the wounds will ever heal, but I would like to preserve the memory of our hometown and its people. Would you like to come inside and talk?"

* * *

Alone at the dining table, Mitsuha fidgets as she waits for her hosts to return. Her grandmother is off in another room, gathering materials to show Mitsuha for her supposed project. Yotsuha stands in the kitchen, brewing a pot of tea (as commanded by her grandmother) while shooting Mitsuha the occasional look.

These go unnoticed by Mitsuha, however, as her eyes have long since begun to wander around the room, taking in the sights of her family's new home in Tokyo.

How strange, that thought-in all of her wildest dreams, she never once imagined moving their entire family to Tokyo. There was the family shrine, after all. And her father would hardly allow it, either.

But Mitsuha doesn't feel a shred of jealousy or envy over the situation. As much as she would have loved to live in the city, she can't imagine what her sister and grandmother have had to live through. Despite her vocal hatred for Itomori, Mitsuha knows that she would instantly trade anything for the world to go back just the way it was.

Her gaze lazily passed over the room of the apartment, failing to find a single familiar item in entire apartment. Not exactly a surprise, given the total annihilation of Itomori and her home, but the unfamiliarity of it all still sends a pang of nostalgia and longing through Mitsuha's body.

Just when she thinks she's finished her cursory appraisal of the room, something much more familiar catches her eye. Or rather than a thing, a person does.

She does.

Mitsuha stares at an old portrait of herself, taken who knows how long ago in the past. It's a simple photo of her smiling at the camera, the image seemingly ripped straight from a class photo or an ID. But Mitsuha knows exactly what purpose this picture serves.

The rest of the small memorial is adorned with a simple wreath of flowers and a few candles, but conspicuously absent is an urn. After all, given the circumstances of Mitsuha's passing, there would be no body to cremate.

Mitsuha can't seem to tear her gaze away, captivated by what is essentially her own grave. It's equally fascinating and unnerving to come face to face with her own mortality. But more than any discomfort or morbid curiosity, Mitsuha feels terribly sad. Not for herself, and not even for her family, though she knows they've endured much.

Her mind and heart remember a single young man, who nobody else does or will. To the rest of the world, Taki Tachibana is alive and well, and he will have no grave nor anyone to mourn him. Mitsuha knows it isn't her fault, but she feels guilty all the same.

A very conspicuous clearing of a throat snaps Mitsuha out of her reverie and back to reality. She whips her head around to find Yotsuha waiting, tray of steaming tea in hand. Silently, Yotsuha presents her a cup, and Mitsuha accepts the proffered beverage equally quietly. Satisfied, Yotsuha gently places the tray on the table and joins Mitsuha in taking a seat.

Each of them takes a short moment to enjoy the tea-for Yotsuha, it's a nice drink with which she can unwind and relax. For Mitsuha, the aroma and taste are exactly as she remembers the tea from Itomori, and she relishes the fragrant familiarity of home.

Eager to converse with her younger sister, Mitsuha attempts to initiate some small talk, though Yotsuha does still seem a bit wary. "If you don't mind me asking, how are you and your grandmother finding Tokyo? I'm sure it's much different than your hometown."

Given Yotsuha's earlier disdain towards her, Mitsuha is surprised when Yotsuha answers without a hassle. "Tokyo. . .well, it's certainly lively. Lot of stuff going on everyday, I'd say living in the city is pretty convenient. Still, it lacks that sense of community from back home. Everyone knew each other, but here, each day your into a thousand new strangers who you'll never see again."

"That makes sense," Mitsuha says. If anything, that was one reason why she herself had longed to move to Tokyo. She didn't truly hate Itomori, but she hated being so recognizable to everyone. So easy to single out. How refreshing it must be, Mitsuha thought, to simply live your life unmolested by those who resent you.

But now, Mitsuha can also sympathize with Yotsuha. Mitsuha had only focused on the negatives of living in Itomori that she sometimes found herself forgetting about the tight-knit community that supported each other and shared in each other's hardships. Mitsuha wishes she'd appreciated Itomori more, but now she's only left with regret.

Unprompted, Yotsuha continues. "Overall, life's been good to us here in Tokyo. Things were tough right after the comet, but there were a lot of people who were willing to help out. Grandma is still not quite used to it, but I've made do. But whenever I think of our life here, I mostly just feel a sense of guilt."

"Guilt?" Mitsuha's interest is piqued, though she thinks she know why Yotsuha feels that way.

"Well, maybe not quite guilt?" Yotsuha amends her previous statement. "Or maybe it is. I find myself feeling kind of down, or even bad, whenever I realize I'm having fun here. I know you noticed that mourning shrine on the other side of the room," Yotsuha says. "You probably guessed, but that's my sister. She. . .didn't make it out in time, nor did my father. Anyways, she had always dreamed of growing up and moving to Tokyo. I guess that's why. It feels kind of unfair for me to be here, living the life she always wanted, but she's gone."

"I see. . . . I'm sorry for your loss," Mitsuha says, feeling a bit odd about giving condolences for her own death. More importantly, it pains her to know that her silly dream is capable of hurting her sister in such a way. "It may not be my place to say so, but I think your sister wouldn't want you to feel bad about that. I'm sure she'd be glad that you still think about her, but she'd want you to move on with your life and be happy."

Yotsuha sighs, a burdened exhalation that is unbecoming of a teenage girl. ". . .I know. I've come to terms with the fact that she's gone, but. . .but it doesn't make it hurt any less, you know? I'm trying to move on, but it's not easy."

Mitsuha feels a whirlwind of emotions as she listens to her sister's sorrow. She's proud of Yotsuha, of how she's managed to stay strong and keep living despite the loss and hardships, of how she's grown into a fine young woman. But Mitsuha is also pained that her little sister had been forced to grow up so early and face the harsh realities of life. She wishes she could've been there for both her sister and her grandmother when they needed her, but instead they were left to fend for themselves in an unfamiliar world.

"It's weird," Yotsuha says with a slight smile. "I've never actually talked to anyone about this. But it's relieving to let out everything that I've kept bottled up inside, even if it's to a guy I only just met a little while ago. That might be why it was so easy to confide in you-maybe I didn't want to burden my grandmother or anyone else from home with my troubles. They already have plenty of their own to deal with."

"I'm glad I could help, if only a little," Mitsuha says. "And please, if you need help, let someone know. You're not a burden to your friends or family, or even me. Everyone you know just wants you to be well. You'd want your friends and family to come to you if they needed help, right?"

". . .Yeah, I guess you're right," Yotsuha says with a ruefully. "Without each other, we never would've made it so far, after all. Thanks, Taki."

"Now that you two are done, shall we get started with what you came here for, Taki?" Mitsuha's grandmother asks, startling Mitsuha and Yotsuha.

"G-Grandma!" Yotsuha yelps, flustered at the thought that she'd been overheard. "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough," her grandmother chuckles. "Besides, did you really think you could hide something like that from me?"

". . .I should've known better."

"And you, Taki." The elderly woman turns to face Mitsuha, a kindly sparkle in her eye. "Thank you for lending an ear to my troublesome granddaughter. You're quite a fine young man, aren't you?"

Mitsuha can easily picture Taki reacting to her grandmother's praise: a faint dusting of embarrassed red on his cheeks, a sheepish smile, and a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head. And Mitsuha would agree with her grandmother, if Taki were actually here. If Taki were still alive.

Instead, she politely bows her heads and simply expresses her appreciation. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Not at all," Mitsuha's grandmother smiles, placing several heavy tomes onto the table. "Now, where shall I begin. . . ? I suppose it'd only be proper to start at the very beginning of Itomori's history-or rather, as much as we know from what records remain."

"Here she goes," Yotsuha facetiously complains, clearly remembering fond memories of home. Mitsuha too is taken back to those warm autumn nights, braiding cords with her family.

Her grandmother shoots Yotsuha a look before carrying on. "Two hundred years ago, sandal maker Mayugoro Yamazaki's home caught fire, and the whole area surrounding Itomori burned to the ground. Because of that, much of our history has been lost, save for what few traditions could be passed on: for example, the rituals of Miyamizu Shrine and our practice of braiding cords contain thousands of years of history. This is known as. . ."

Before Mitsuha can catch herself, she finishes the sentence out of pure habit. "Mayugoro's Great Fire."


	6. Chapter 6

Mitsuha forcefully claps a hand over her mouth much too late, which only further serves to make her look suspicious. She immediately berates herself silently for such a careless, foolish mistake. It's just like her, to be so conscious and wary of appearances, only to let everything slip the moment she feels remotely comfortable. Now, what tenuous trust she had painstakingly managed to build is gone, and all she can do is pray they won't throw her out (or worse).

Meanwhile her grandmother and Yotsuha both stare, wide-eyed and silent, trying to process what they've just heard. The likelihood of anyone outside of Itomori knowing such an obscure piece of history are infinitesimally small, so the fact that "Taki" so quickly finished the thought is a red flag. Mitsuha can only wonder what's going through their minds: who is Taki, really? How does he know so much about Itomori and their family? And why is he here?

Yotsuha slowly puts the pieces together in her head, her furrowed brow and burning glare a clear indication of her conclusion. Before she can speak out, however, her grandmother suddenly leans across the table and peers over her glasses into Mitsuha's eyes, as if she's searching for something.

The surprising action preemptively silences Yotsuha as well as causes Mitsuha to freeze, down to the slightest nervous tick. The close, direct eye contact is unnerving, but Mitsuha feels that breaking her gaze would be a mistake, one that she'll never have a chance to correct.

This brief moment stretches on for an eternity, and the entire time Mitsuha's mind has gone completely blank. When her grandmother finally sits back in her seat, Mitsuha lets out a breath she has no idea she had been holding.

Only for another to catch in her throat, this time from giddy disbelief, upon her grandmother's verdict.

"You're dreaming, aren't you, Taki," Hitoha says. "Or, should I say: Mitsuha."

"What?" Mitsuha and Yotsuha say in unison, though the answers they each seek are quite different. Yotsuha, ever quick, beats Mitsuha to the punch in asking her questions.

"What do you mean, he's Mitsuha?! Grandma, you're not making any sense. What's going on?" she pleads, desperately lost.

"Grandma, how did you—?" Mitsuha asks, but cuts herself off when she sees her grandmother is about to speak.

"Going through all of these memories," Hitoha explains, "reminded me of one I had forgotten. In the days before Itomori was lost, Mitsuha had been going through wild swings in behavior. But the day the star fell, I finally spoke with her about it. I, too, had experienced these 'dreams' in my own past, but had thought little of them. But Mitsuha, or in reality Taki, insisted that these dreams did have meaning, that they may have all been leading up to that fateful day. I didn't heed his warnings, however, and we all know what came next."

Yotsuha, too, begins to remember distant memories buried under the trauma of losing her home and family. Her face lights up as she puts her own remembrance together with her grandmother's words. "Wait. . .that day, I saw Mitsuha acting really weird—weirder than ever before. She was yelling at some little kids, and when I went to see what was wrong, she told me to leave town with you, Grandma. She said we would all die if we didn't. I thought she was crazy, but that night, Tessie came and took us to the high school, where Saya and a few teachers were. There's no way Mitsuha could have known that the comet would strike, or that the high school would be safe. . . . But, switching bodies with someone is just as impossible." Yotsuha cradles her head in her hands, visibly conflicted and struggling to reconcile her perceived and actual realities. "None of this makes any sense! But it also does!"

Mitsuha takes this brief lull to reach into her pocket to retrieve her braided cord, which she gently places on the table in front of her grandmother and sister. Even if its existence may introduce further confusion, Mitsuha still goes on to explain just how her cord had survived comet Tiamat.

"If it means anything, I have this. Just as Grandma said, I had been having strange 'dreams' for some time. One day, though, I suddenly wanted to meet Taki. I'm sure you remember, Yotsuha: I told you I was going to Tokyo for a date. Not mine, of course. Though I wished it was. I went to Tokyo to find Taki, but only ran in to him when I was leaving. We met for a little bit on a train." Mitsuha smiles as she remembers the bittersweet moment. "I was so happy to finally see him. We'd have so much to talk about. But. . .he didn't know who I was. In the hope that he'd someday remember me, I left my braided cord with him. It was only after I woke up in his body did I realize that I had been three years too early—I experienced the switches in 2013, but for Taki everything happened in 2016."

". . .I don't know what to believe anymore," Yotsuha says flatly. "Switching places, now time travel, and my deceased sister back from the dead in someone else's body. I think I'm going crazy, because no matter how I look at it, everything adds up in its own sick way." Having stated her shaky acceptance, Yotsuha immediately retires to her room, likely to stew in her confusion.

It isn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but it will do for Mitsuha. She just hopes that Yotsuha will remember what Mitsuha had told her, even if she had been "Taki." That all she wanted was for Yotsuha to be happy.

"Mitsuha," her grandmother addresses her, "you sought us out for a reason other than to reconnect with your family. No matter how much you love us, I can tell your heart aches for another. For him."

She thought it would be far more embarrassing to have her crush so casually revealed, but Mitsuha honestly can't be bothered to feel that way anymore. Instead, she readily admits it with no shame. ". . .Sorry, but yes. I really did miss you and Yotsuha, and even Dad, but I need to know, Grandma: somehow, Taki got one more chance to try and save Itomori, to save me. But he paid for it with his life. Is. . .is there anything I can do? This," Mitsuha gestures to herself, "is wrong. I have to make things right."

Hitoha shakes her head. "I don't know anything about that sort of thing, Mitsuha. Do you remember anything from when you woke up in Taki's body?"

"I was in the cave where the sacred relic of Miyamizu Shrine is kept. . .and my bottle of kuchikamizake. . .the seal was broken on it." The thought that Taki likely drank her kuchikamizake was but an afterthought, but now the unassuming alcohol is suddenly relevant. "Hey, Grandma. You said that the kuchikamizake was a part of me, an offering to the gods. Is it possible, then, that _musubi_, really did give Taki one more chance because a piece of me still existed in the world? If I go back, in his body, would _musubi_ listen one more time?"

"Who's to say?" her grandmother asks right back. "I know I can't stop you, Mitsuha, so I won't try. But, please know that you'll always have a place with us, no matter what."

Mitsuha bows her head in deference. "Thank you."

* * *

Mitsuha doesn't linger at her family's apartment. She's gotten what she came for, and besides, it would feel awkward to stay any longer. She only gained their trust through deception, and though her grandmother seems to believe her, Yotsuha's half-hearted acceptance could change at any time. Best not to be present if that happens.

Better that Mitsuha leave now. If she really can go back and change the past, then her grandmother and sister would likely forget everything. Mitsuha feels no attachment to her present circumstances. All she's managed to do is alienate both Taki's friends as well as her own family. Though there was the issue of Saya and Tessie, but they'd probably be fine.

After all, if everything somehow goes right, then Mitsuha would be with her friends and family again, and Taki with his. And no one, not even herself, would be none the wiser.

Her decision is but a foregone conclusion.

* * *

On the out bound train, Mitsuha has time to reflect on how she and Taki now both will have departed Tokyo for Itomori in search of answers, or for her, salvation.

The first time she made this same journey, things were far different. Far simpler. Then, she went home heartbroken, her hopes and dreams crushed when she learned that the boy she loved didn't remember her. Now, she feels unnaturally calm, even as she heads back to the desolate ruins of her hometown with both her past and future in the balance. One way or another, she knows the end is in sight.

Strangely, Mitsuha feels almost excited, like a fire burns just below the surface of her skin, because every fiber of her being (and Taki's) knows that, finally, the time has come to set things straight. That everything in both of their lives had been leading up to this moment.

Mitsuha watches the gray steel and concrete of Tokyo slowly fade into the browns of the suburbs, only to fully turn into verdant seas green as the train fully leaves the Tokyo metropolis.

She hopes that she'll have the chance to return one day.

* * *

Of course, the train can't take her all the way to Itomori, for painfully obvious reasons. But it gets her close enough. Initially, Mitsuha had considered asking the same ramen shop proprietor if he would be willing to provide a ride back to Itomori, but she quickly reconsidered. She'd rather avoid the questioning that would likely accompany such a deal. Hiring a taxi is easier, anyways. A simple transaction, cash for services. No uncomfortable questions, but instead a tacit understanding that it's just business.

The cab driver, much to her surprise and gratitude, took her as far as possible; Mitsuha gets out of the car to be greeted by the sight of a somewhat familiar chain link set and warning sign. Before she can communicate her thanks, however, her driver is already off, bouncing down the broken road, likely looking to make some more cash. So, Mitsuha settles for a shallow bow in the car's direction before turning her attention to the task at hand: climbing a mountain.

On the surface, her mission is simple: get to the top of the mountain before sunset. After all, the only direction she has to go is up. But hiking, much like life, is hardly so simple. Mitsuha will have to navigate the mountain trails by memory, and if that fails, her only option will be to bushwhack her way up the slopes and hope she'll make it on time.

The physical exertion isn't completely exhausting, but strenuous enough that she often finds herself more focused on putting one foot in front of the other than getting lost in her thoughts. This mechanical, thoughtless approach to her trek makes it pass by far quicker than she would have expected, and through sheer dumb luck Mitsuha makes all the right turns as she finds her way. A part of her would like to take her time, to take in the beautiful forest and wilderness one more time, but Mitsuha maintains her laser focus. She's not here to sightsee or reminisce.

The cover of the forest gives away to the vast, grassy boulder fields that lead to the crater's lip. Taki, too, had come this way before: once to offer the kuchikamizake to the gods, and again to ask the gods for a second chance. It's a small comfort to know that they had both walked this path, but Mitsuha will take it.

Her earlier unfounded confidence and energy has slowly and insidiously been replaced by doubt. Suppose she does manage to go back, against all odds. Then what? Taki had come up with a plan with Tessie and Saya to evacuate the town, but couldn't convince her father. And, truth be told, Mitsuha doesn't think she could have done it, either. Their relationship would be described as cold, when put in the best terms.

With that final reflection on her broken parental bond, Mitsuha crests the ridge and looks down upon the Miyamizu Shrine god's relic. Mitsuha did bring her bottle of kuchikamizake with her, intending to return it, but now she's not so sure if she wants to go back. On the one hand, returning the offering might appease the gods, if they do exist. On the other, if they do exist, they likely wouldn't treat a returning thief very kindly.

But with hours until sunset, Mitsuha has little else to do but wait. So, she takes a seat and does so.

For all she has left to her is to wait. Wait, and hope.

* * *

Notes: So I probably rewrote this chapter dozens upon dozens of times and was never satisfied with it. At some point, I came up with this, and then realized how long it took me. Pacing feels off, and I didn't develop interactions as much as I wanted, but I felt like that would stray a bit far from my original vision of the story. Either way, I have a more concrete idea for what's coming up, so look forward to that at least.


	7. Chapter 7

The view down the mountain slopes is breathtaking, a true testament to the majesty of untouched nature. This far up the slopes, the devastation of Tiamat is but a distant memory down below, far removed from immediate reality. Perhaps the gods feel the same way, sequestered away from the pitiful mortal world. Similarly, Mitsuha can feel herself growing numb to her picturesque environment, and her once vibrant enthusiasm has slowly waned into tired boredom. More than once she finds herself startling awake, having briefly dozed off despite the brilliant sunlight easily shining through her closed eyelids.

Shading her eyes, Mitsuha spares a glance at the sun. The blinding orb seemingly has remained at the apex of its daily arc, not even having begun to drift down toward the horizon. Despite her earlier efforts and misgivings, Mitsuha consciously lets her eyes glide shut. There are many hours until the magic hour arrives, and she can spare a few of them to get some rest. It isn't quite so easy, given the bright rays of sunlight beating down upon her, but Mitsuha soon drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Her rest is neither deep nor fretful, but somewhere in between. Her mind lingers on the edge of consciousness, but such state is not accompanied by the usual discomfort and fatigue. It almost reminds her of the first few times she switched places with Taki—a dream that appears to be incredibly realistic, but in the end is just that. But in this current dream, Mitsuha realizes that she can't interact with anyone or anything. She is incorporeal and invisible, only able to stand by as events unfold before her.

From a disembodied perspective, Mitsuha finally watches over Taki as he fruitlessly tries to find her. Accompanied by Okudera and Tsukasa, Taki wanders across the countryside, from town to town, trying to match a place to his faithful sketch of Itomori. It's only as he finally gives up does someone recognize his drawing, but the victory is bittersweet: hope dawns on Taki's face when he hears the name "Itomori," even as recognition and horror dawn on Okudera and Tsukasa's faces as they too remember the town, albeit for a very different reason.

Mitsuha continues to observe as Taki runs across the dilapidated baseball field, tightly gripping the chain link fence as he stares in disbelief at what should have been Itomori. Despite comet Tiamat being an event of utmost importance to Mitsuha, it only strikes her now that her personal tragedy was only just minor news to many. It's a sobering prospect, but Mitsuha can sympathize. After all, she can only imagine how many countless tragedies she's heard in passing that she never bothered to care about.

The scene quickly shifts from the ruined high school to a mostly dark library, the shadows only occasionally punctuated by bright spheres cast by reading lights. Taki scours through book after book, looking for something, anything, that might tell him that Mitsuha is safe. Okudera, however, finally arrives with a book containing a list of the victims of the tragedy. The thick, black tome sports embossed golden lettering, the binding fittingly somber for the information contained within. These small details go unnoticed by Taki, who simply flips the cover open and rapidly pores over the pages, looking for a single name.

Her name.

Mitsuha can see Taki pause as he comes across names he does recognize: Sayaka Natori and Katsuhiko Teshigawara. But she can tell for certain when Taki finally finds the name Mitsuha Miyamizu. His eyes grow impossibly wide as the truth finally hits him, yet the truth directly conflicts with his memories from the past month. He can't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it, but he has to. It's all real.

Again, Mitsuha's surroundings suddenly blur and she finds herself transported to a room in a traditional inn. The only source of light in the room doesn't even come from the light or a lamp. Taki sits at a table next to a window, the stack of books he borrowed from the library illuminated by the glow of a nearby streetlamp. Across the table from him is Okudera, who also peruses the materials before her, but not quite as thoroughly as Taki. She pauses on a page, making a brief remark about a picture of braided cords, which suddenly triggers a faint memory in Taki. He shoves his current book to the side and replaces it with a map, frenetically drawing and circling on it, much to Okudera's concern. Realizing he's a lost cause, Okudera retires to another room, leaving Taki to his own devices.

After his outburst of activity, Taki starts staring at the braided cord on his wrist again. Slowly, both his arm and head eventually reach the table, at which point Mitsuha realizes that he's fallen asleep. Just a few seconds pass in Mitsuha's dream, but the scene she's watching has progressed by several hours. The room is silent and devoid of any activity. Okudera and Tsukasa both are sound asleep on the floor, and even the once-frantic Taki has finally tuckered himself out. But, he suddenly wakes up, with tears streaming from his eyes. He quickly digs through his pockets and leaves some money on the table before gathering his things and quietly dashing out the door.

Taki makes the same pilgrimage Mitsuha made earlier today, the ramen shop owner providing him a lift as well as a bento box for lunch. Taki gratefully accepts the gift before beginning his journey. The grey, overcast morning soon gives way to a pounding thunderstorm, the rhythmic rain occasionally broken by a flash of white light and the crack of the storm above.

Somehow, Taki makes it out of the forest and to the slopes leading to the peak, a distance which he quickly covers. "There it is," he pants as he stares down at the sacred relic. "It's really there. It wasn't a dream." Taki wipes some liquid out of his eyes before proceeding to carefully navigate a route into the crater. It was only for a very brief second, and Mitsuha isn't really sure of what she saw, but she swears that Taki wiped tears, and not raindrops, from his eyes.

Deep in the damp cavern, Taki sits in front of the small shrine to the local deity. He had sat here once before, when he offered Mitsuha's kuchikamizake to _musubi_. Today, he's here to commit sacrilege. Taki breaks the seal on the moss-crusted bottle and pours himself a cup of sake. "_Musubi_. . .if it's true, and time can be unraveled. . .just give me one more chance." His prayer said, Taki drinks the alcohol. When nothing immediately happens, he sighs in disappointment and gets up to leave. As he does, however, he slips on a patch of moss. His fall to the ground seems to happen in slow motion as his phone's flashlight lights up a mural above the shrine: a crude, ancient painting of a comet with a fragment splitting off and hurtling down to earth. Taki doesn't even have the time to process the revelation when his head collides with the ground. And with Taki's consciousness, Mitsuha' dream also goes dark.

At first, when sunlight and morning air floods her senses, Mitsuha thinks that she's finally woken from her dream of Taki. But she quickly understands that she's still dreaming when she watches herself wake up in her room back home in Itomori. Taki, too, is confused by his surroundings, but is overcome with a torrent of relief and happiness when he realizes that Mitsuha is alive, and now he has a chance to save her.

And, confirming Mitsuha's suspicions (primarily thanks to the way Yotsuha would poke fun at her), Taki gropes "his" chest. Mitsuha would slap him if she could, but she also remembers that she did something similar. Not quite to the level of the now-teary and sniveling Taki, but each morning she would hesitantly acknowledge the. . .object. . .between her legs whenever they would switch places.

The unexpected moment of levity is a welcome break, but it soon passes. Taki futilely tries to convince Mitsuha's grandmother of the danger of the coming comet, but as said by Hitoha herself, she doesn't heed his warning. So Taki turns to the only people he knows will believe him, no matter what: Tessie and Saya. Together, they concoct a plan to save the town. In order to start an evacuation, they'll bomb the substation and have Saya hijack the emergency broadcast system. Meanwhile, Mitsuha will have to convince her father to order an official evacuation statement. Without the help of emergency personnel, there's no guarantee that everyone would make it out in time.

And just as Mitsuha expects, her father blows Taki off in an instant. He mutters to himself about the madness of the Miyamizus and prepares to have Taki taken away to a hospital. Taki closes the distance between himself and the mayor, seizing the mayor's bowtie and pulling him out of his chair. Toshiki moves to fight back, but stops when he looks into Mitsuha's eyes. Her father, of all people, recognized that someone else was in Mitsuha's body. Mitsuha mirrors her father's own disbelief and confusion. The last time they had truly been close was nearly a decade ago, and truth be told she had long forgotten much of her father. Only bitter anger at being abandoned remains. Mitsuha figured that her and her sister were as good as strangers to their father.

But the proof lays before her now, now matter how small of a gesture it is, that her father can truly recognize that his daughter doesn't stand before him. This moment of pause gives Taki a chance to flee before the mayor can make good on his threat and have him taken to a hospital, but Toshiki doesn't follow through. He just sits down tiredly in his chair and runs a hand through his hair, muttering to himself below his breath. Toshiki pulls his wallet out of his pocket and produces a tattered photograph, so old and worn that the color at the edges has begun to fade.

Mitsuha flinches when she realizes what the photograph depicts. It's an old family photo of her father, mother, sister, and herself. Everyone is all smiles.

Before she can look more closely at the photo or her father, she's whisked back to the sacred relic. Taki is calling out for her, running around the edge of the crater. He can somehow feel her presence, in his body three years in the future, but he never does find her. Instead, deep in the cavern, she remains in slumber. With no other reason to remain, Taki sprints down the side of the mountain, knowing he only has one option left to him, a last ditch effort to convince Mitsuha's father to evacuate the town.

But he never gets that far. Long before Taki makes it to the town hall, Mitsuha's body fails him and he trips and falls, tumbling several yards down the road. And when he tries to stand back up and continue agonizing pain in his leg tells him that his journey is over. No amount of willpower he has can overcome a mangled leg. It takes all of his strength to roll over onto his back, let alone stand and start running again. All he can do is watch as impending doom draws closer and closer, raining destruction all around.

Until finally, with a crashing, dissonant sound not unlike a bell or gong, everything goes pitch black.

* * *

Mitsuha is startled awake by the unexpected, discomforting sound. She doesn't need any explanation as to what it meant, though. She wipes the sleep from her eyes as she slowly wakes, the golden glow of the sun simultaneously blinding her and telling her that she's not too late. If anything, she's woken up at the exact time she needs to.

At least, that's what she thinks, until she places a hand on the ground to push herself to her feet. Instead of the hard rocks and bristly grass of the mountains, her hand instead encounters soft cloth.

Mitsuha hastily rubs at her eyes before opening them again and finds herself in a place she thought she would never see again. She clutches her arms, the tactile sensation of her body confirmation that she isn't still dreaming.

Across from where she sits, Mitsuha stares at her own face, not Taki's, in the reflection of the mirror in her room. Her own room, in her home. Outside, the town of Itomori stands, untouched by the destruction of comet Tiamat.

This is it. Mitsuha has the chance that she asked for.

And now she must make things right.

* * *

Notes: So I completely messed up and uploaded the wrong version of this chapter first. Got to writing this chapter and some of the next couple and had some drafts, and ended up using on where I made some mistakes. So, here's the fixed version.


	8. Chapter 8

NOTE: Last chapter uploaded was the wrong version, so if the beginning of this chapter suddenly makes no sense, you may need to go back and read the updated version. Only the last bit was changed. Used a draft instead of the final piece, sorry for the inconvenience.

* * *

Mitsuha finally has her chance, and she refuses to waste a single second of it. She's instantly out of her bed and donning her school uniform, the first stages of her plan already in mind. In her haste, she blows past Yotsuha, whose mostly surprised that Mitsuha is awake of her own accord, and darts past her grandmother, who calmly calls out a farewell to her long-gone granddaughter.

Mitsuha has the general gist of her plan, borrowed from her dream of Taki and his attempt to save Mitsuha as well as Itomori. It's unlikely that Mitsuha could convince her father to evacuate the town, especially on a wild claim that the comet would split and fall directly on top of Itomori. For now, she'll formulate a plan that assumes her father won't comply. An official announcement and emergency personnel would make evacuating the town a fairly simple matter, but it shouldn't be impossible to do so without either of the aforementioned factors. Or so Mitsuha hopes.

The general idea behind Taki's plan was solid: using Tessie's knowledge of and access to explosives and Saya's status as a member of the (now defunct) broadcast club, the building blocks to creating their own evacuation scenario are in place. Bombing the substation would create a supposed terrorist attack while also giving Saya the opportunity to hijack the town hall's speaker system. The explosion, along with a spoofed emergency announcement, should be more than enough to galvanize an unofficial evacuation.

Of course, this plan all hinges on Tessie and Saya's cooperation. It's not that Mitsuha doubts them, or their trust in her, but she too would be a bit hesitant to participate in such a plot based simply on the wild claims of a friend. Not to say that she wouldn't help, but she would have initial reservations.

When Mitsuha arrives at her classroom, slightly out of breath, she's settled on a general framework for the plan. Completely disregarding the attention her sudden arrival garners, she quickly heads over to where Tessie and Saya are waiting at their desks. Mitsuha walks up to them, ready to ask for their help, but both of them gape at her when they see her.

"Wha. . . ?"

"M-Mitsuha. . .y-your hair. . . !"

Of course the first thing either of them notice is that Mitsuha had the majority of her hair chopped off. Looking back now, it was a bit of an impulsive decision driven by heartbreak, but the reason hardly matters now.

"What about it? You know what, it doesn't matter anyways. We need to get everyone out of town, or we're all going to die!" she says with increasing volume, until she's just shouting the last few words.

That certainly gets the attention of every other student in their classroom. Saya and Tessie wither under the confused, judgmental looks, but Mitsuha knows the truth. And besides, she has her back to her classmates, so she can't see them anyways.

Taken aback, neither Tessie nor Saya give an immediate answer, processing the madness of Mitsuha's claim. The lack of an answer from either of them soon results in the rest of the class losing interest in their conversation and returning to their own idle chatter, but Mitsuha waits. If they agreed to help when Taki asked, then surely they'd help her too.

* * *

Rather than make any more of a scene back in the classroom (and invite unwanted attention), Mitsuha, Saya, and Tessie end up in the defunct broadcasting club room. The relative isolation and privacy make it the ideal spot for students to skip class. Or engage in dangerous conspiracies involving explosives.

When Mitsuha tells Saya and Tessie her plan, she's surprised by the lack of a reaction. She had expected something, anything, really, when she told her friends that she was going to save everyone from a comet impact by bombing a government facility and impersonating government officials.

"A bomb, huh?" Tessie grins deviously. "I can do that, easy. I'll have that substation down, guaranteed!"

"And the town's announcement system. . .a power outage should give me just enough time to override their signal, but they will be able to trace it," Saya says. "We'll only be on the air for a little while."

Mitsuha considers the feedback from her two "experts." The explosives sounds like a done deal, but the broadcast was always where things would get tricky. The fact that Saya's signal will be traceable and thus only broadcasting for a short time is something Mitsuha hadn't foreseen. She'd been counting on having an ongoing emergency announcement to spur as well as maintain a steady pace for the evacuation.

"If we only have so much time, then we need to make the most of it," Mitsuha decides. "Tessie, could you get enough explosives for multiple explosions?"

Mitsuha figures that if they'll only be able to spoof the broadcast for a limited amount of time, then further blasts should be plenty of incentive for the townspeople to begin (or hopefully continue) evacuating. Of course, Mitsuha doesn't want to destroy everything, even if Itomori's fate is already sealed, and too much destruction could result in unforeseen consequences. It would be best if they only needed the one bomb for the substation, but it never hurts to be overprepared. If there were ever a time to take half measures, now most certainly isn't it.

"I think I could swing it," Tessie says. "But why more bombs?"

"Insurance, in case we need to really convince people to get out of town. With the autumn festival tonight, Saya's announcement might get ignored, but it'll be really hard for anyone to just ignore multiple explosions."

"That's not a bad idea." Saya leans forward, however, with a doubtful look on her face. "But are you really sure about all this, Mitsuha?"

"Is that thing really gonna fall, right?" For real?" Tessie asks.

"For real," Mitsuha says confidently. "I saw it with my own eyes."

Mitsuha's confirmation throws Tessie off. After all, the chronological relationship is all out of order—how could Mitsuha have seen the comet impact? Still, despite the hesitation on his face, Tessie doesn't change his mind. "What? You did, huh? Then, I guess it's settled. We're both just going to have to be criminals!"

"Uh, me too?" Saya says over Tessie's shoulder.

"Thank you. Thank you, for believing in me and being there for me when I need you," Mitsuha chokes through the emotional lump in her throat. She can't hold back her tears, so grateful she is for her friends' unwavering trust and loyalty. She has to know, though, why they didn't just blow her off. Her own father and grandmother had easily disregarded Taki's warnings, but Saya and Tessie stood by his side—and now hers. "But you don't have any doubts? What if I'm wrong?"

"Of course we have our doubts," Saya says. "But the Mitsuha we know wouldn't lie about something like this. Even if you do sometimes act like a whole other person, you'd only make a scene like you did in the classroom if you had a very good reason."

"Besides, you aren't wrong," Tessie asserts. "Why would you ever lie about something like everyone dying? Well, maybe you were just having some crazy dreams or hallucinations and everything will be fine—call me crazy, but I believe you. I'd love for there to be no danger, but. . .well, there's just something. . .different about you now. I can't say what, but it's enough for me. I know you're telling the truth."

Mitsuha, lost for words, stays silent and just brushes away her tears. Tessie claps a hand on her shoulder, to both reassure and inspire her. "Now come on, let's go and get ready to save the town!"

* * *

After Saya and Tessie both split off to make their preparations for the coming night, Mitsuha is left alone. In this time during the last switch, Taki had attempted to convince her father to evacuate town. With her knowledge of the future, Mitsuha won't waste her time with a futile task.

She could go home. She had, after all, sprinted out of her home this morning. She hadn't had the opportunity to warn her grandmother and sister of the comet. It would also be rather nice to enjoy a little bit of time in her own home one last time. After all, after tonight everything she had ever known would be turned into smoldering ruins.

But a strange sensation in the back of her mind, like the crystal clear sound of a windchime playing in an autumn breeze, makes Mitsuha pause. She turns around, not quite sure what has just come over her, but she does have a hunch. Mitsuha stares off into the distance, not quite sure what she feels like she's looking for, but again the chime sounds inside her head. She blinks, and for a moment a vision of the sacred relic is superimposed on her vision. But when she blinks again, the image disappears.

"Could it be. . .that you're there?" Mitsuha quietly asks herself. Mitsuha had been wondering why Taki returned back to the mountain the day he died in her place. Did he have the same irresistible urge pulling him back to the shrine relic?

Her sister and grandmother forgotten, Mitsuha takes off running.

* * *

Taki groans in protest when a faint shouting stirs him from his slumber. Disoriented, he sits up and tries to regain his bearings but is only blinded by the sun, hanging low in the late afternoon sky. He winces for a moment before shielding his eyes with a hand, but doesn't quite understand what he's seeing.

His last memory is drinking Mitsuha's kuchikamizake before slipping and hitting his head. There are faint memories of visions of Mitsuha's life, from her birth all the way up to her death. Where those really images of Mitsuha's past? Or a fever dream caused by a concussion. Taki's hand flies up to check the back of his head, but his confusion only grows when he fails to find the sign of any wound—in fact, his head feels perfectly fine, which is quite strange considering the dangerous nature of head injuries.

Taki moves to stand but his vision suddenly swims, and he finds himself on his hands and knees. Another vision passes through his mind: a vision of him, as Mitsuha, trying to save the town. His last talk with her grandmother, simultaneously enlightening yet a dismal failure. He had discovered the true meaning of the switches, of all of the Miyamizus, but in the end Hitoha still didn't believe him.

Tessie and Saya, however, had believed him without a shred of evidence, and together they concocted a plan to save the people of Itomori. A half-baked, risky plan that was full of holes, but that was all they had. It was all they needed—one more chance. He would take anything he was given to save Mitsuha, no matter how long the odds. Which, of course, were impossibly long. There was no way Mitsuha's father would ever believe Taki, but he still had to try. Some father. There seemed to be no love between Toshiki and his family anymore. Not to say that Taki and his father are particularly close, but Mitsuha's father almost actively despises the Miyamizu name to the point of denigrating the memory of his late wife.

Taki knows he's impulsive to a fault, but even he feels that confronting Mitsuha's father and grabbing him by his tie isn't going too far. The close proximity, however, bring about another development—despite their estrangement, even Toshiki can recognize Mitsuha's eyes. He looks at Taki in horror, wondering what sort of monster or demon now stands before him. His legs fail him and he crashes down into his seat, and Taki takes the opportunity to turn and flee. Perhaps Toshiki still has a heart, after all. But those hidden feelings would mean nothing if Taki fails. If he can succeed then maybe, just maybe, Mitsuha could reconcile with her father.

But he failed. Despite having come so far, Taki couldn't change fate. A foolish notion, to think that a mere human could change the course of history so easily. But in the depths of his despair, a glimmer of hope shines. He's not sure how or why, but he suddenly remembers the Miyamizu Shrine's relic, where his body lays asleep three years in the future. If he's here now in Mitsuha's body, is it possible that she also switched with him? That she's alive again?

During his flight up the mountain, Taki learns the truth. That he had met Mitsuha before, and that's how he got her braided cord. He had never known exactly what the cord was or where it came from, but for some reason he could never bring himself to throw it away. Something told him that it was important to him, to someone else. And that it would bring them together. Mitsuha had gone all the way to Tokyo to see him, and he didn't even know who she was. She had been three years too early.

But now, he would be able to make things right. Taki and Mitsuha would finally be able to meet face to face, and he could return her cord to her: a sign that even if he lost his memories, he would never forget those feelings or the bond they shared. Emboldened by this hope, Taki reaches the peak of the mountain.

But as the magic hour falls, Mitsuha is nowhere to be found.

Out of time, Taki reluctantly turns away and descends down the mountain slopes. He and Tessie put the plan into action flawlessly. The substation goes up in flames, and Saya begins her falsified emergency broadcast. Taki and Tessie too do their best and try to spur an evacuation effort, but the residents of Itomori are more inclined to continue enjoying their autumn festival or watching the spectacle of comet Tiamat. Perhaps if he sees the comet, Mitsuha's father can still be convinced to evacuate the town.

This last-ditch effort falls painfully short. Carelessly, Taki doesn't watch where he's going and ends up taking a nasty fall. When he tries to get up, he realizes that he's seriously hurt his leg. In frustration, he pounds a fist on the ground and rolls over. It's an agonizing effort, and just laying there seems to take all of his remaining strength.

How cruel. The town hall is in sight, mere minutes away. But Taki is all alone on the side of the road. It's painful, but at least Mitsuha might survive in Taki's body. In a way, he did manage to achieve his goal, and he takes what little solace he can in that.

Taki doesn't shy away from his fate. He continues to watch the sky as roaring hellfire rains down around him. Finally, in a bright crimson flash, comes blessed, cursed silence.

"I died, huh," Taki mutters. "But I'm here now. That shouldn't be possible, unless. . ."

The disconcerting memory of being both dead and alive sends Taki's head spinning even further. The edges of his vision darken and pain splits his skull, but fortunately the spell soon passes. Panting from the strain, Taki notices something dripping from his nose. He quickly presses his fingers to the source and finds them stained with blood when he pulls them away. He hastily wipes his nose with his sleeve, and after that the bleeding seems to have stopped.

Did Mitsuha go through the same thing? As soon as he asks himself the question, he berates himself. She almost certainly did. But, how long has Mitsuha been alone in the world, stranded in another time in someone else's body? Taki can't fathom how painful and lonely that must be, even if Mitsuha did know some of his friends. The knowledge that only she survived, but not in the physical sense, must have been torturous. Taki isn't sure if anyone else made it out of Itomori on this night, but he can only hope that if they did, that Mitsuha could have at least had some closure with them.

Taki's reverie is finally shattered when he hears an echoing voice interrupt the tranquility of nature. "Taki! You're here, right?"

Taki's ears perk up when he hears the distant shouting grow closer. He knows that voice—it had once been his voice, too.

"Mitsuha," he whispers, his heart soaring. He scrambles to his feet and tries to locate the source of her voice. Realizing that he can hear her, he starts shouting back in the hopes that she can hear him. "Mitsuha! Where are you?"

He runs around the entire length of the crater, pulled along by an invisible, implacable force, but when he returns to his starting spot there is no Mitsuha to be found. Could what happened to him be happening to her now? He can't stomach the thought—she, too, had come all the way back for him. Are they really destined to forever be just out of each other's reach? Taki bitterly bites his lip, cursing the unfairness of the world. Just one time, one single time, he doesn't want to come short again.

The sun slides beneath the distant mountains, bathing the land in the half-light of the magic hour. "The magic hour," Taki whispers to himself. He desperately reaches out, as if he could cross the barrier between their times so easily, but his hand merely grasps at emptiness. Taki listlessly falls to his knees, the light fading from his eyes and heart. Why did he ever bother hoping? He and Mitsuha seem forever doomed to chase each other's shadows.

It's quiet, almost too quiet for human ears, but the crunch of rocks and bristly grass behind him causes Taki's heart to start pounding uncontrollably. He wants to hope against hope itself that he's not just hearing things, but he's too afraid to turn around. What if it was just his mind playing tricks on him? What had happened to all of the courage he had built up, only to let rot away? So Taki doesn't turn, fearing what answers his questions may receive.

His feverish heart almost drowns out all other noise, but Taki can still barely make out a single word carried on the sorrowful breeze.

"Taki."


	9. Chapter 9

The placid mountain wind slowly peters out, the unnaturally still and silent air creating an alien atmosphere where the boundaries of Taki and Mitsuha's separate times have blurred together. A pregnant pause hangs between Taki and Mitsuha, an undeniable tension building despite their peaceful surroundings. Mitsuha is the one to break the silence, the crunch of stones underfoot the only sound as she takes a step towards Taki.

"Taki. . .you're really here," Mitsuha says, more to herself than to Taki. She closes her eyes and smiles, reveling in the moment she had dreamed of for so long. After switching places so many times, after being separated by the distance between Itomori and Tokyo and the time of three years, after being held apart by death and time, Mitsuha and Taki finally meet face to face.

"Mitsuha. . ." Taki breathes. Seeing her is a joy beyond description, to finally be united with her. Taki steps forward and tightly embraces Mitsuha, as if he's trying to take in everything about her: how beautiful she looks in the dying evening light, the melodious sound of her voice carried by sweet mountain wind, how tangible and comforting she feels in his arms. With anyone else, he knows such a sudden gesture would be too forward, but there's a tacit understanding between him and Mitsuha, easily communicated just by being in each other's presence.

Mitsuha hugs him back, welcoming the physical and emotional contact. She's never felt so fulfilled or content before, like she's finally found her missing half. "You came all this way to see me."

"I could say the same for you," Taki says right back.

And it's true. Yes, Taki did try to save Itomori first, but in the end his struggle was in vain. He had managed to save a few people, and while he did keep Mitsuha from dying, in a sense, he also left her stranded in time. Bothered by the unintended consequences of his action, he gently pushes Mitsuha to arm's length. "I'm sorry, Mitsuha. I. . .I tried. And it's my fault you had to go through so much. If only I hadn't failed. . . ."

"No, Taki. Don't blame yourself." Mitsuha reaches out and takes hold of Taki's hands despite Taki's attempt to put distance between them. "I know you suffered too. You. . .you died in my place. And if it weren't for you, we would never have had the chance to meet like this. You've given me more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you."

Mitsuha gives Taki's hands a tight squeeze, silently reassuring him. The contented silent conveys more than mere words could ever hope to, but soon their attention returns to their important task. Mitsuha looks up at the comet, its tail shimmering in prismatic beauty, her eyes set in hard determination.

"Don't worry, Mitsuha," Taki tells her. "There's still time. But you've got a lot to do."

Mitsuha only nods, the ecstatic fluttering of her heart turning to anxious dread as she realizes that the fleeting magic hour is coming to a close. Taki seems to notice as well, for he pulls out a pen and present Mitsuha with an idea.

"Hey, Mitsuha. Just so we don't forget things when we wake up, let's write down our names."

Before Taki can start, however, Mitsuha takes the initiative and snatches the pen from him. Taki just accepts it and presents his hand to Mitsuha. She reverently takes Taki's hand and begins writing. Once she finishes, she lets Taki take the pen. He likewise takes her hand and starts writing.

But the tip of the pen leaves only a single black line before the pressure Taki's applying suddenly has nothing pushing back against it, only empty air occupying the space where Mitsuha's hand had been mere seconds ago. Taki blinks as he slightly loses his balance, not fully registering what's happened.

"Mitsuha?" he still asks. "Hey, Mitsuha?"

His calls go unanswered.

The sun finally disappears behind the horizon, heralding the end of the magic hour. Only then does Taki accept that Mitsuha is gone. It's bittersweet, but Taki will forever hold this memory dear. How comfortable and natural it was to be with each other, and their forced parting only strengthens Taki's resolve to find Mitsuha. Only then does Taki belatedly remember that he had forgotten one last important task: he hadn't returned Mitsuha's braided cord. All the more reason that Taki promises himself that he will never forget.

"I was planning to tell you, that wherever you are in the world, I swear I will find you again. No matter what," Taki says to himself. He continues to tightly grip the pen, as if it were his one remaining link to Mitsuha. "Your name is Mitsuha. I-It'll be okay. . .I'll remember! Taki. Taki. Taki. Your name is Taki. Your name is. . ."

Taki's heart falls when his memory fails him out of the blue. He had been saying her name just seconds before, but now he can't remember it. He immediately presses the tip of the pen into the palm of his left hand and starts writing, but his hand comes to a shaky pause when he can't remember her name. The pen wavers for a brief moment before Taki, defeated, lets it slip from his fingers. He slumps to his knees, arms dangling uselessly by his side, as he futilely tries to remember.

From the corner of his eye, Taki barely spies a dark mark on the pale palm of his hand, aided by the dying half-light of twilight. In that instant, he remembers just one, single thing: that so they wouldn't forget, they would write their names on each other's hands. Taki slowly turns the open face of his palm toward himself, his eyes widening as the characters on his palm come into view. Tears gather in his eyes as he comprehends what he's reading, but Taki can't help but smile.

"Writing this. . .doesn't help," Taki whispers softly, his words whisked away by the mountain wind.

* * *

_Hey. . .who. . .are you? _

Mitsuha runs as fast as she can, the wind whipping in her ears.

_Who. . .who? Who is he?_

The blaring sirens and Saya's emergency broadcast have long stopped; the only sounds Mitsuha can hear now are her own ragged panting and the chorus of insects oblivious to the danger above.

_Someone precious. Someone I shouldn't forget. Someone I didn't want to!_

Everything is falling apart and Mitsuha is running out of time.

_Who? Who?! Who are you? What's your name?!_

Mitsuha spares the quickest of glances up at the comet fragment, which proves to be a fatal mistake. She fails to notice the broken pavement in her way, and one of her feet slams painfully into the raised concrete and sends her tumbling to the ground. She bounces once or twice before finally rolling to a stop on her side, battered from the ugly spill. Mitsuha lays there with her eyes screwed shut, agonizing pain searing through her leg. She doesn't need anyone to tell her that something's horribly wrong.

It would be so easy to give up. Maybe this was how things are supposed to be. Fighting against fate and gods seems so foolish now. Why had she been trying so hard? She wanted to save someone, but who was it? If she can't even remember that person, is it worth it to keep trying anymore?

As her doubts echo throughout her mind, an unknown yet achingly familiar voice cuts through the chaos and confusion in her head, calming Mitsuha's fretful soul.

_So that we don't forget things when we wake up, let's write down our names._

She opens her eyes and stares at her hand, her palm devoid of any writing—save for a single unfinished line. He never had the chance to finish, did he?

But she did.

So, somewhere out there, written on his hand, he'll know her true feelings.

And that's enough for Mitsuha.

Mitsuha's eyes blaze, her fiery determination easily matching the overwhelming might of Tiamat's heavenly flames.

This isn't the end.

She won't let it be.

* * *

Taki wakes up, his body sore in so many places that he doesn't bother trying to count. At first, he doesn't understand it, but when he gathers his bearings he realizes why he failed to have a restful sleep. Apparently, he had fallen asleep on top of a mountain. The last thing he remembers is climbing up here after leaving Okudera and Tsukasa behind. . .but that's it.

"Why am I here?" Taki asks no one in particular, not even himself.

Unbidden, a fuzzy memory flashes before his eyes: standing on this very mountain, a hand, smaller and softer than his own, takes his and presses the tip of a pen into his palm. Just as suddenly the vision came, it passes. Confused, Taki brings his hand up and slowly opens it, not sure if he'll even find anything there.

His eyes widen as he reads and rereads the black ink that does, in fact, mark his palm.

"What is this. . . ?"

Taki can't even remember who wrote on his hand, but the four simple words they left still bring him an inexplicable comfort, even through the gaping hole in his heart.

_I love you too._


	10. Chapter 10

Just beyond the smudged, slightly fogged-up window the same old city of Tokyo flashes by in a blur. Inside the train, Mitsuha blankly looks out the window, her mind only focused on not getting crushed against the side of the train car by the writhing mass of morning commuters, something which she has become quite adept at. Mitsuha has spent an inordinate amount of time these past several years riding the same trains over and over, so much that she can identify her location from the slightest lurch or subtle shift.

Before she lived in Tokyo, Mitsuha had been impressed by the elaborate rail system that serves Tokyo. It was a testament to the modernity of Tokyo: a public transit system comprised of countless moving parts, all working in perfect tandem, to transport the millions of people of Tokyo where they needed to be each day, without fail.

Now, the train is just simply another dull part of Mitsuha's daily life. Wake up, get ready, catch the train, work, catch the train, get home, go to bed. A repetitive, endless cycle that Mitsuha suspects has become her singular purpose. Sometimes, Mitsuha yearns for those days of innocent, childlike wonder, days when her eyes would widen just at the sight of sparkling skyscrapers on the distant skyline. Days when the Tokyo trains were an infallible feat of technology, engineering, and logistics that were the envy of every major city across the globe.

But when those idealized dreams became reality, the sheen and luster quickly faded away. In the actual city, Mitsuha was far removed from those fantasies. On the ground, Tokyo was just another city: gray, crowded, impossibly hectic. Quite clean, too. And the trains in Mitsuha's mind would effortlessly glide from station to station, but now Mitsuha is acutely aware of every minor imperfection. Even so, Mitsuha is occasionally drawn to the windows of the train, as if in hope she can somehow reignite her passion and joy. But she mostly just spends her time vacantly staring out the window, numb to the world that passes her by.

A familiar lurch manages to get Mitsuha's attention. By her internal map, she knows she's getting close to her stop. Just two more stations until she transfers lines. The train begins to slow, and Mitsuha allows herself a quick glance at the station sign above the platform. Not like she has anything better to do. At the bottom of her field of vision, the rush of commuters swarms in and out of the train, the platform even more chaotic than the crowded train car. Among the colorful and confusing sea of people, however, a single hue catches her eye.

A man, dressed in the nondescript black and whites of the average businessman, wears a striking red band on his wrist that peeks just beyond the cuff of his coat. Colors fade to muted gray and time slows to a crawl in Mitsuha's world, her eyes fixated on that stranger's wrist.

It's impossible, but Mitsuha somehow knows exactly what she's looking at.

Her braided cord.

Her braided cord, handed down to her from her mother, the cord she thought lost when comet Tiamat struck her home.

And just as spontaneously as she found it, found _him_, the man disappears into the crowd.

The train doors begin to close, but Mitsuha moves with a speed she didn't know she was capable of, barely slipping between the pneumatic doors as she frantically scans the crowd for that person. She suddenly feels very foolish, standing there with her head on a swivel, as her train slowly begins to accelerate away from the platform. What was she even doing? She was probably just seeing things anyways. And she'll probably never see that stranger again.

As she waits for the next train to arrive, Mitsuha wonders just why she felt the tiniest bit of hope spring to life in that moment. Whatever or whomever she's lost is gone forever.

* * *

"Taki. Hey, Taki!"

Yet again, Taki finds himself staring intently at his blank palm while his friends rowdily make conversation around him. It's only the sound of his name, right by his ear, that finally returns him to the land of the living. Taki knows why his mind continually wanders back to the palm of his hand, but that's it. All he knows is that one day, after yet another trip to Itomori, for whatever reason he woke up on top of a nearby mountain, with a short message neatly printed on his hand.

Perhaps if it were just a short note to himself, or even something from Tsukasa or Okudera, Taki would have easily and quickly forgotten about the whole thing. But, written on the palm of his right hand, the characters were too cleanly written to have been done by his non-dominant left hand, and the handwriting just doesn't match his or either of Tsukasa or Okudera's writing. And besides, there's also the content of the message.

Taki certainly wouldn't write a confession of love to himself, and Tsukasa and Okudera are long since happily together. So it's not exactly the words that capture Taki's imagination, but who wrote them. Was there really someone out there who felt that way about Taki? That really, truly loved him? If there were, Taki knows he would never forget that person. It'd be unthinkable.

But here he is, unable to put a name, face, or even voice to the writer. Taki wants to just tell himself if he must have forgotten they must not have been important, but he can't stomach the thought. It wouldn't be fair to whoever wrote the message—though, on the other hand, it isn't really fair that Taki completely forgot them to begin with.

"You all good?" Takagi asks. "You're doing that thing again."

Taki responds with a sigh, much to his friends' displeasure. "I'm fine. Actually, I'm feeling pretty good—I did get that architecture job, after all. Though. . .I lost count of how many interviews I had to do."

Tsukasa smirks as he smartly pushes up his glasses. "Did you try looking the interviewer in the eye instead of staring at your hand the whole time?"

"Wha—oh, come on! What about you, Tsukasa? You've been sneaking glances at your own hand all day!"

"Dude, he just got married," Takagi reminds Taki as Tsukasa proudly shows off his ring. "Besides, he hasn't been doing it for, what, four years now? Just saying."

To that, Taki has no response. Takagi does speak the truth, much as it confounds not only Taki but also his friends as to his newfound insatiable need to glare daggers at his hand. To be fair to Taki, he doesn't actually do it all the time. Just. . .well, a lot of the time. Too much, for sure.

Invariably, his eyes are drawn to his hand on a particular kind of day: some days, Taki will awaken with tears streaming down his face, and he has no idea why. Nothing particularly sad or devastating occurs before these days, nor can he remember if his dream was a particularly emotional one. All he feels is a magnetic attraction to his hand, and those four words replay in his head in an unfamiliar voice he could have sworn he once knew.

While Taki remains eternally confused by this phenomenon, he doesn't feel uneasy at the mystery or even melancholic from the sense of loss and longing. He can't explain it, but something tells Taki that he'll find this precious person again one day, no matter what.

So, for now, Taki quickly taps his wrist, making sure his lucky bracelet is still snug and secure, before flagging down a nearby server and ordering another celebratory round for the table. Satisfied that his order is on its way, Taki dives back into his conversation with Tsukasa and Takagi, content in their companionship and his newly secured future.

* * *

Mitsuha idly pokes away at her food, mind far away from the dinner table. For some time now, she's felt lost. Not in the physical sense, she's become quite familiar with her new home of Tokyo by now—it would be hard not to after living here for nearly seven years.

No, she feels lost on a spiritual or emotional level. Mitsuha can't shake the feeling that something, someone, or even a part of herself has been missing from her life, but she can never seem to figure out what she's searching for.

As much as her inability to answer her own question frustrates her, Mitsuha realizes that to simply dwell on it would do her now good. After all, if she can't find what she's been looking for after seven years, then perhaps she just isn't meant to find it. And that's okay. Life has meaning beyond what was lost in the past, but that's not to say that the past should remain forever forgotten. No, Mitsuha believes that it simply means you shouldn't spend all your time thinking about the past, because you end up missing out on the present.

All of this inner preoccupation, however, makes Mitsuha a rather poor dining companion. A fact which is certainly not lost on her father.

"Does my company bother you so much that you've lost your appetite?" Toshiki asks, a hint of mirth in his voice.

"Huh? What? O-Of course not!"

Mitsuha's bewilderment and indignation coax quiet laughter from her father. "There you go again, lost in thought," he says. "What's on your mind?"

For a moment, Mitsuha truly considers telling her father everything. Well, as much as "everything" would encompass in a case where her own memory has failed her quite spectacularly. It would be more to just vent than anything, but what purpose would that really serve besides to make herself feel slightly better for a little while?

". . .It's nothing," is all Mitsuha says.

Toshiki clearly sees right through the poor lie, but decides not to press the issue. Even though he had regrettably been absent for much of Mitsuha's childhood, a father (albeit a formerly estranged one) knows his daughter well enough to back off. So he makes a strategic decision to shift the conversation elsewhere. "How are those friends of your doing? Last I heard from his father, Katsuhiko was feeling pretty fed up with all of the wedding planning."

"You heard right," Mitsuha laughs, easily switching gears. "Can't say I blame him, he's got a lot on his mind, what with trying to rebuild his family's business and all that. Saya can't seem to make up her mind about the wedding, too, but Tessie's probably been mentally checked out since day one."

"I can only imagine. After all, when I married your mother, it was a pretty subdued affair. Obviously, we had a traditional Shinto wedding, so all of the planning was set from the start. Plus, getting disowned by my family over my sudden career change probably kept costs down," Toshiki jokes with a fond smile. "But I wouldn't have traded my marriage to your mother for anything. Anyways, how about yourself? You seeing any boys?"

"Dad!" Mitsuha objects, scandalized. "We're in public, please keep it down! But no, I'm not seeing anyone, and I don't think I plan on it for a while. I just. . .don't really get relationships, I guess."

"Of course," her father says understandingly. "Give it time. Surely you too will someday find your other half."

Mitsuha doubts the certainty in her father's statement, given that it feels like a part of her is already missing and she can't even figure that out. But rather than air her issues out in the middle of a highly public restaurant, Mitsuha just gives a shallow nod. ". . .Yeah, maybe I just need some time."

But even with all of her doubts, deep down Mitsuha prays that her father is right. But she can't seem to muster the hope that he can.

* * *

Even during the lull between peak hours, the plaza outside of the train station that has become their go-to meet up spot is still surprisingly busy. The whirlwind of pedestrians heading in every direction isn't nearly as chaotic, but even in the golden late afternoon there is still a noticeable amount of background chatter from people coming and going.

Taki finds himself actually enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city that he's called home all his life. The mundane hasn't suddenly become magical, but the little things that would grate on the nerves are now small reminders that not everything is so bad.

Of course, some things never change, even if Taki has. In this case, Taki is once again second to show up, Okudera ready and waiting on a nearby bridge. "Oh, you're job hunting, huh?" Okudera guesses based on Taki's attire.

"No, actually," Taki proudly corrects her. "I hadn't had much luck lately, but today, everything seems to have worked out."

"Really? In that suit?" Okudera teases him with a critical eye, but the friendly barb doesn't have its intended effect.

Taki looks down at himself, fully aware of his ill-fitting suit and how it makes him look like a child playing at being an adult. It's not awful, but everything is off just enough that it gnaws at the back of Taki's mind, an unfriendly reminder that he really is just a child trying to take his first steps on his own into the real world. Taki gingerly tugs at a sleeve with a rueful smile. "I guess I know where my first paycheck is going. You know a good tailor?"

Okudera dramatically tosses her head to the side, her hair fanning out behind her in a flamboyant display. "Only the best. Now come on, let's get going! We're losing daylight!" She unexpectedly snatches Taki's hand and all but drags him away, not that Taki actually resists. Despite his initial trepidation towards her (no thanks to that doomed crush all those years ago), Taki knows he's formed a lifelong friendship with Okudera. Not that that helps him when he gets swept up in her pace every now and then. But, Taki figures, maybe that isn't so bad every now and then.

Through some twist of fate (or more likely Okudera's twisted sense of humor), Taki and Okudera end up at the annual gallery commemorating Itomori. The collection of black and white photographs is somber, but the overall atmosphere isn't oppressive. Through an unbelievable stroke of luck, the town had been holding an evacuation drill when the comet (through an unbelievable stroke of bad luck) directly struck the town, wiping it from the face of the earth.

"Did we really have to come back here?" Taki gripes, though he's not really upset in any way. After all, he was the one who was so obsessed with Itomori that he ended up dragging his worried friends there. And when his friends finally managed to bring him back, well, he simply up and went again. Something about Itomori, the landscape, captured Taki's interest—no, his heart. He's not sure why, but when he looks at the black and white photos his chest aches; he's filled with a complex blend of a sense of irreversible loss as well as a nostalgic feeling of home.

"I really did want to come here agaom," Okudera tells him. "It's a wonderful exhibit. Really makes you think about how it's so easy to take everything for granted, and how easily we can lose everything we've ever known. Plus, it's kind of fun to watch you squirm—hey, remember that lousy date we went on four years ago? We came here, and you were the absolute worst!"

"Don't remind me," Taki uselessly pleads. What he would give to have that date scrubbed from his memory. Well, that wouldn't actually work since Okudera would still remember. And besides, his past is a part of who he is now, and it would be a disservice to try to forget it. But even if he is willing to accept every part of himself, from his strengths to his flaws, Taki still can't shake the feeling that an important part of him has gone missing. It sounds odd, but it feels strangely right when he puts it that way. No other explanation seems to suffice. That's the only thing that can really get him down these days, and the feeling tends to last for quite a while.

"Who was it that you liked back then?" Okudera asks. "Don't try to lie to me, Taki—I can read you like a book. When we went on our date back then, you had your heart set on someone else. Shame, you were real cute then."

Taki racks his brain, trying to recall the people that have come and go (and sometimes stayed) throughout his life. And for the life of him, he has no idea who Okudera could be talking about. There had never been anyone like that for Taki, not that it bothers him. When the right person comes along, he'll know. Until then, he'll patiently wait for that fateful day. "I don't even know if there was someone," Taki admits. "I can't remember. It's been a while, after all."

Okudera childishly pouts as Taki dodges her question, but she can't really push her line of questioning any further. She also knows Taki well enough to see that he's telling the truth, so all she can do is accept his non-answer. For now. "Fine," she grumbles. "Oh, it's this picture again! I was pretty mad you were such a terrible date, but it really was a pretty town, huh?."

Taki joins Okudera, his shoulder lightly brushing hers as they huddle together to look at one of the many small pictures of Itomori that comprise this particular piece. Taki's eyes are magnetically drawn to the photo Okudera is talking about, drawn so quickly that he's not actually sure if it's because Okudera is pointing at it or because there's something else about that particular landscape that warms his heart. "Yeah, it was."

They spend quite some time looking around the various exhibits of the gallery, so long that by the time they leave the sun has already begun to disappear beneath the distant horizon, painting the sky with spectacular shades of purple and orange. In the dying half-light, Taki and Okudera part ways, laughing and talking comfortably.

"Well, I'd better get going," Okudera says with a tinge of sadness. "This was fun. We should meet up again soon."

"We should," Taki agrees. And he means it. He won't let himself slowly drift away from the people that matter to him. Taki waves as he begins to head off in his own direction. "See you."

But Okudera doesn't return his farewell, and instead she reaches out and grabs Taki's arm, her eyes fixed on his wrist. Or rather, the cord that encircles his wrist. "Oh!" she briefly apologizes. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. It's just, I noticed that you still wear that braided cord. It's still in perfect condition."

And it is. Taki finds that he's overly conscious of the cord, so much that he almost refuses to let it leave his sight or side. That conscientiousness, of course, extends to his care and treatment, and he has taken great pains to make sure not a single thread of the cord has frayed or come unraveled. "Oh, this? Yeah, it's kind of like a lucky charm or something. I don't really remember where it came from."

Okudera, however, does remember something. "You wore it four years ago when we all went to Itomori together—well, all of us except Takagi. You said something that stuck with me. How the threads of the cord represent time or something like that. How they come together, tangle, break, and connect."

Taki can hear those very words in his head, but not in his own voice—but in the creaky voice of a wise old woman; a woman Taki doesn't know but feels like he should. "And that's what a union is," Taki whispers to himself, so quietly that Okudera can't hear. He does raise his voice to ask her a question, though. "Hey, Okudera—do you ever feel like you're lost? Or always searching for something?"

"Well, aren't we all looking for something?" Okudera answers with a question of her own, though hers is more philosophical in nature. "Every day, we live our lives because there's something we're all looking for. Some people simply want money, others desire fulfillment in their lives, and more still are searching for someone that completes them. But not everyone knows just what they want out of life, and that's okay. Someday, you'll find happiness too."

Okudera bids him farewell with a smile and a short wave, the band on her ring finger catching the last remnants of the shimmering sunset.

* * *

_ "Taki! . . .Taki? . . .Taki? It's me! . . .Don't you remember?"_

_"Wait! What's your name?!"_

_"My name. . .is Mitsuha!"_

Mitsuha wakes with a start, one hand grasping nothing but empty air. Already Mitsuha can't remember her dream, why she's reaching out for something. What she does know, however, is that it's going to be another one of these days.

Robotically, she dabs at the tears that stream down her face, though she knows not why she's crying. She sits there in the morning light, pensively staring at her fingertips glistening in the sunlight. Mitsuha slowly rubs her fingers together, feeling the wetness of her tears slowly spread along her fingers until the drops leave nothing but the lingering sensation of liquid on her skin.

A lingering sensation much like the one that weighs heavily on her heart, though that one is one of loss and longing and not a tactile sense. Mitsuha's life has been like this for quite some time now. She can't remember exactly when these forgotten dreams and crippling emotions began to plague her, but they at least seem to have occurred far more often ever since Itomori was lost. Perhaps that's it; she simply feels a longing for her home and the world of her childhood.

Through sheer habit, Mitsuha gets out of bed and slowly goes about her morning routine, determined to get through another day yet still resistant to the sheer monotony of her life. After all, the world never stops moving, and Mitsuha knows that she needs to keep pace lest she get left behind. As bitter as it is, Mitsuha simply has no choice but to accept the harsh reality that life won't wait for her to figure everything out.

Mitsuha's managed to find some semblance of structure in her life, but even she can see that her painstakingly crafted order threatens to come crashing down at the slightest misstep. On days like this one, it's painfully clear just how tenuous her situation really is.

Each trudging step carries Mitsuha closer to her daily subway ride, the dampened click of her shoes upon the worn sidewalk pavement rhythmically punctuating just how disheartened she really feels beneath the façade of normality. But she dutifully marches on (her feet dragging only slightly) as she joins the faceless hordes on yet another nondescript subway car, ready to be whisked away.

Despondent thoughts weight so heavily upon Mitsuha's mind and heart that she fails to notice when the train departs the station, but a vibrant flash of color suddenly steals Mitsuha's breath away. Her eyes widen in shock as she stares at a man in the train running next to hers, a hand creeping up to the clouded subway glass, as if to reach out to the person who is so close yet so far. No, not just "a man" or "the person."

The someone she had been searching for all along.

Taki.

For a short eternity, Mitsuha just stares. She can't believe it. After all this time, for everything to simply fall in to place like that. The malaise that had plagued her earlier today, and for much of her life, is instantly banished, replaced by soaring happiness. How could she have ever forgotten Taki? Forgotten everything the two of them went through together?

Tears gather in Mitsuha's eyes as the weight of her memories come crashing down upon her, but her gaze never wavers from Taki's form. As she remembers more and more with each passing second, she still wonders if he'll looks her way, if they'll make eye contact. If Taki will also remember.

Finally, Taki spies Mitsuha from the corner of his eye, surprised and confused to see a passenger on another train watching him so intently. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Taki starts to turn to take a look of his own at his unknown observer.

The split second his eyes meet hers, rushing wind breaks the connection between them as the two trains veer their separate ways, dragging Mitsuha away from Taki yet again. Mitsuha is far too familiar with the heart-wrenching disappointment that follows their abrupt parting, but beneath the sadness lies another, stronger feeling.

Somehow, Mitsuha can still recognize the foreign emotion that burns within her soul for the first time in eight years.

Hope.


End file.
